Left Behind
by fleeting-glances
Summary: One year can change everything. And Hermione thinks one year sharing a dorm with the new Head Boy, Malfoy, will be akin to torture. Left behind at Hogwarts by her friends, can she get used to the idea of living with a Slytherin? Could she even fall for one... or maybe two? And with her love of definitions and clarity, how can she cope as her love life gets messier and messier?
1. Beginnings

**A/N - This is the first fan fiction I've written, and so reviews, feedback and constructive criticism are all welcome :)**

**It's a DM/HG 7th Year AU where Harry and Ron are Horcrux hunting and Hermione has been asked by the Order to remain behind for reasons as yet unknown to her. There's going to be a weird love pentagon going on around the middle, and there will be a little TN/HG before we get to the good Dramione stuff ;) so if you like the sound of it, read on, if not, why are you here?**

**Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. Much of this fanfic will be written by me and a friend of mine who is acting as co-writer, proof reader and editor, so many thanks to her; she's one amazing girl. NJH, you know who you are :) That's enough rambling for now. Enjoy.**

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><p>The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall twinkled over the heads of the many Hogwarts students, who were silent and had all their attention focussed on the front of the Hall. It was the start of another year and so, as was customary, the Sorting was taking place. A queue of nervous first years stood, shivering with either cold or fear, in the centre of the hall, in a line, waiting for their names to be called. Almost every student in the Hall watching the Sorting now reminisced about the time they too had donned the scruffy Sorting Hat, anxiously waiting its decision about which house they would be placed in, nervous and scared silly. One of those students was Hermione Granger.<p>

Currently she was not looking at the front as her fellow students were, but she was gazing up at the stars above her, watching the thin grey clouds on the ceiling swirl and drift across it. She was daydreaming, most unusually for her, and she thought wistfully back to her first year, when things had seemed so much simpler, when she had befriended her two closest friends, Harry and Ron, and how this was the first time (disregarding their late entrance in second year) that she hadn't spent at least part of the start of term feast with them.

"_Gryffindor!"_

Hermione was snapped out of her reverie by the cry of the battered old hat currently being worn by a small, terrified looking blonde girl. She watched as the girl removed the hat and hurried over to the table at which she was sat, which was currently tumultuous with applause.

"Hermione, are you ok?" inquired Ginny Weasley, whose red hair stood out like a beacon in the sea of people in the Great Hall, as she was now the only Weasley left at Hogwarts.

"What?" she replied, slightly dazed. "Oh, no, I'm fine. Really," she added when Ginny looked doubtful, "I'm fine."

Concern still etched on Ginny's face, she turned back around to continue to watch the Sorting, leaving Hermione alone with her thoughts. This was the first time in her entire time at Hogwarts that she had felt truly alone, without Ron or Harry by her side. The only thing that came close had been when the pair of them had fallen out with her over the Firebolt in third year and at least back then they had still been in the castle with her. Now, the only person she had was Ginny, who was, of course, still Hermione's close friend, but she was no substitute for the brotherly bond she had with both boys. And now she felt empty, incredibly and unusually at a loss for what to do now she was at Hogwarts and the boys were gone wandering around the country. Hermione had felt, ever since the day they left after their long summer at the burrow, a summer spent avoiding all talk about the future, an all-consuming guilt because she hadn't gone with them. Originally, the plan had been for her to accompany them in their hunt for Horcruxes, but Professor McGonagall's arrival at the Burrow in the first week of summer had changed everything. Of course, she knew almost nothing of what the trio had been planning, but she knew it was to do with defeating Voldemort and that they wouldn't be returning for their seventh year.

When McGonagall had pulled Hermione aside during her visit and asked her to stay behind she had complied almost immediately, such was her tendency to go along with what her teachers asked, but she had never really understood why the Order had wished for her to be parted from Harry and Ron and stay at school. Professor McGonagall had explained Hermione's queries away by saying they needed her to stay behind and protect the castle, but Hermione couldn't help but remember how shifty ad fidgety the Professor had been when she'd answered. Even so, Hermione was at Hogwarts again, and what good would dwelling on the past do now, she thought?

Returning her attention to the Sorting, Hermione heard "Zayne, Emily" be sorted into Hufflepuff, and concluded that the Sorting must nearly be over, and indeed, a few seconds later the very professor she had just been thinking about removed the stool and the now silent hat from the Hall. Shifting in her seat, Hermione turned to fully face the Headmaster as he arose from his seat, smiling, and spread his hands wide.

"Welcome, students, to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our excellent feast, I wish to say a few things to you.

"First of all, there is a small change to timetabling this year- namely, the lack of Defence Against the Dark Arts classes, due to the lack of a Professor." Dumbledore's face turned quite sad and quiet mutters greeted his words. Of course, thought Hermione, with a glance to the Professors table, with Professor Snape dead, there wouldn't be a teacher. There was a moment of silence while everyone in the hall respectfully acknowledged Snape's death. "Thank you all. Professor Snape was a brave man and a good and loyal man also. Let his death show you the dangers of meddling with Lord Voldemort, but how the strength of those who oppose him can be such that one is willing to sacrifice themselves for what is right." Dumbledore's smile returned though it was a little weak, and his eyes glazed with tears. Hermione was moved by his show of emotion.

"On a similar note," he continued, "secondly, and most importantly, I must advise you all. We are in the midst of dangerous and uncertain times; therefore it would be most prudent of us to now, more than ever, make an effort to stand together as one, unified and strong, especially as our numbers seem to have dwindled slightly."

Dumbledore cast his twinkling eyes over the hall, and his smile seemed to dim a little. Hermione too looked round, and noticed for the first time that indeed there was a slight decrease in students. While the Hall was still almost full, there were many spaces between students on the Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Hufflepuff tables. The Slytherin table, she noticed with distaste, was still as full as normal. _Perhaps __Purebloods think they have less to fear_, she thought angrily.

"Consequently," continued Dumbledore, and Hermione snapped her attention back to him, "this year we shall be placing particular emphasis on house unity."

At this point there was a large groan from the Slytherin table and Dumbledore paused to pass his blue eyes over to the Slytherins and then to the Gryffindor table.

"Finally, in the spirit of house unity, I am pleased to announce our new Head Boy and Girl. This year's Head Girl, from Gryffindor, is Miss Hermione Granger."

Applause broke out across the hall and Hermione caught snatches of mutterings of "Should've guessed!" and "Well done, Hermione!" from her own table. She blushed and smiled. She relished the fact that she had been made Head Girl, and it was one of the reasons she had agreed to return to Hogwarts; the happiness she had felt about being made Head Girl had helped her keep it together when Harry and Ron had left. Now, in the middle of a hearty round of applause, pride began to swell a little in her heart and then suddenly dampened when she realised she had no idea who the Head Boy was and who she'd have to work with for a year.

As the sound of clapping died away, Dumbledore continued.

"And our Head Boy, from Slytherin House…" A tidal wave of whispers broke out across the Hall, cutting Dumbledore off. Hermione felt sick. Heart pounding in her mouth, she heard the hissing murmurs cascade viciously around her, buzzing like bees, and as Dumbledore smiled and held up his hands for silence she prayed that it would be someone who would be civil to her.

"From Slytherin House," he tried again, "our new Head Boy is Mr Draco Malfoy."

Hermione's heart sunk. Instantly, there was uproar. It was a mixture of startled mutters, cheering from the Slytherins and loud booing from several angry Gryffindors. She chanced a glance over to the Slytherin table and saw Malfoy looking smug, having his back patted and hand shaken by many clamouring housemates. He appeared to have sought her out too and their gaze met. He winked evilly at her before she turned away.

Mouth dry, Hermione waited for silence to descend again with her arms folded and her face stony. All around her, Gryffindors hissed angry complaints at their friends, looking as outraged as Hermione felt. She needed something to drink. Luckily, silence soon fell thanks to several loud bangs emitted from Dumbledore's wand, and he invited the students to begin eating. Food appeared magically on the plates. Hands shaking, Hermione poured herself a goblet of pumpkin juice, spilling much in the process, as Ginny turned to her.

"That slimy git!" she swore. Evidently, growing up in a house of boys had affected her vocabulary. "How'd he manage to pull that off- bribe someone?" Ginny's face was as red as her hair and she reached for the mashed potatoes with fury in her eyes. Hermione's angry words caught in her mouth and so in reply she just gulped down her drink. Blindly, she reached out to spoon a helping of peas onto her empty plate. Adding a piece of chicken to her plate, she picked up her fork only to play with her food. Finally, Hermione replied.

"Probably," she rasped, still in shock. All of a sudden, rage seemed to surge from her like a volcano.

"How dare he?" she cried. "How dare he do this to me? He should have turned it down! He's probably never even considered being Head Boy, and everyone knows that I've wanted this since first year! Ernie Macmillan would be a far better Head Boy; he's reliable and trustworthy and responsible. In fact, anyone would be better than Malfoy; I mean he tried to kill Dumbledore! So how can they think he's honest or… or worthy? Merlin's beard, he's a Slytherin for goodness' sake! What were the teachers thinking? Ugh!" she concluded, slamming her fist most uncharacteristically on the table, causing peas to cascade from her plate to the floor, earning her odd looks from her fellow Gryffindors. A first year eyed her anxiously.

Suddenly, Hermione choked on the pumpkin juice she had just sipped as she made a shocking realisation. "I'm going to have to live with him for a whole year!" Ginny patted her consolingly on the back while her eyes watered. "In the Head's dorm," she added, still choking. "We'll have to have meetings and see each other regularly and actually talk… Honestly, this is ridiculous! What am I going to do, Ginny?"

Forlorn, she looked at her friend. Ginny smiled weakly. "There's nothing you can do, Hermione, not unless you want to give up being Head Girl-"

"He's not going to rob me of my position!" she declared indignantly. "This is what he wanted. I'll bet this is why he didn't decline being Head Boy; he enjoys making my life difficult and insulting me. He just hates me because I'm Muggleborn." Hermione pushed her plate away, too utterly disgusted to eat.

Slumping her shoulders, Hermione sighed as she realised she'd have to at least be civil to Malfoy for a year.

"Come on Hermione, cheer up. At least you're Head Girl, you should be glad about that," Ginny said, and then she proceeded to change the subject and engage Hermione in benign small talk about Lavender Brown until the end of dessert. She managed a little bit of treacle tart and felt decidedly better about the situation by the time the plates were magically cleared, accepting that there was nothing she could do.

For the second time that evening Dumbledore stood and silence fell rapidly.

"I hope you have all enjoyed our feast which was, of course, as splendid as usual. Now, I think, it is time for bed. Prefects, please escort first years to their dormitories (you've all been made aware of the passwords I hope) and finally, Professor McGonagall would like to speak to the Head Boy and Girl before they leave. Now, I wish you a good night's rest before lessons commence tomorrow. Goodnight to you all!"

There was a rumble of feet as all the students rose from their seats and began to file out of the Hall. Reluctantly, Hermione bid goodbye to Ginny and began to walk towards the staff table inwardly groaning about how soon she would have to contend with her new colleague.

Pushing her way through the throngs of students moving in the opposite direction, she tried to hasten towards the staff table but instead she managed to bump into someone in front of her and send them sprawling. Hurrying towards them to apologise, she placed a hand on their shoulder. "I'm so sorry…" she began then stopped when she saw who it was.

Malfoy jerked away from her, sneering.

"Keep your hands off me, you filthy little Mudblood."

Ignoring the insult and the consequent hatred he had just caused in her, Hermione started to walk forwards again and retaliated.

"Big words coming from a ferret, Malfoy," she replied coolly. He had fallen into step beside her, albeit some distance away from her. His eyes darkened and his brow furrowed.

"You better watch that mouth, Mudblood," he said, rearranging his face into a devious smirk with one eyebrow raised. "You have the privilege of living with me for a year, and that's both a curse and a blessing for you. I can make your life very difficult."

Hermione was about to snap back, but they had almost reached the Professor. Biting back a witty retort she swallowed her irritation and greeted the Professor, who looked up. Shooting Malfoy a glare that was both a warning and a stare of contempt, she turned around, pretended like he wasn't there and smiled at her Head of House.

"Good evening, the pair of you," she began, and didn't wait for a reply. "I'll make this quick as I'm sure you're keen to get to your dormitory. As I'm quite sure, the pair of you understand how important it is to the Headmaster and to the school that we are unified, this year in particular. Therefore, Professor Dumbledore is looking to you two and the prefects to promote this. He thinks it best that the patrol duties you are all required to do should be paired up boy-girl and inter-house, in the spirit of house unity." Hermione heard Malfoy groan quietly beside her. It appeared that the Professor hadn't noticed. "All partnerships should be Slytherin-Gryffindor and Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff."

This revelation caused Malfoy to attempt an interruption, but one glare from McGonagall stopped him in his tracks. While Hermione was also not very impressed with this new rule, it was a rule, and so she was willing to follow it. She saw the logic behind it and understood the Headmasters aims; however, this didn't mean that she wasn't apprehensive about how effective it would be. She suspected that perhaps it would result in several trips to the hospital wing for the unfortunate Slytherin-Gryffindor pairs.

"This brings me to your first duty as Head Boy and Girl. The patrol schedule must be made up and the prefects informed of the new regulations, and so it falls to you to do these things. Is that clear?" Hermione nodded vigorously, but Malfoy looked livid and not nearly as accepting.

"With all due respect, Professor, I really don't think this is necessary," he argued in a tone that suggested he was anything but respectful. Hermione noticed that his eyes were cold and grey, like steel.

"With all due respect, Mr Malfoy, that is none of your concern."

Hermione smirked and bowed her head to hide it as the Professor put Malfoy in his place. Looking up again, she noticed that he looked about ready to explode with rage. Obviously, thought Hermione, he was used to getting what he wanted. Without any further ado, Professor McGonagall gave them the password to their dormitory and then bade them goodnight. She turned on her heel and left, leaving a sour-faced Malfoy and a pondering Hermione. After a second, Malfoy stalked off wordlessly, hurrying so that Hermione had to run to catch up with him.

"I imagine it will be my job to draw up the schedule?" she asked tentatively.

"You imagine correctly. I certainly shan't be doing it." Malfoy's tone was calm and even, giving nothing away of his emotions, though it was clear by the look on his face that he was still angry and annoyed. Neither of them said anything more until they reached the second floor, having remained in uncomfortable silence for about five minutes.

"If you think for one second that I'll be patrolling with you, Granger, then you are mistaken." His voice was cold.

"As if I would ever wish for that, Malfoy. I didn't intend to put us as patrol partners. I don't really want to spend more time with you than we already have to; I plan to see as little of you as possible. It's bad enough that I have to share a dorm with you, so there's no way I would add weekly patrols to that. I really-" She cut her tirade short as she realised the anger she had felt during the feast was now bubbling into her objections, which was hardly professional. Malfoy shot her a vicious look as her thinly veiled insults registered with him.

"Well isn't that a shame," he snarled, sarcasm dripping venomously from every word.

Unable to think of a suitable reply, Hermione said nothing. Stony uncomfortable silence fell once more and wasn't broken until the pair reached a portrait of a lion and a serpent on the fourth floor that concealed the entrance to their dorm and Malfoy spat the password contemptuously. Hermione was still irritated, but by now was just desperate to reach her bed and get some sleep. The portrait swung forward, revealing the cosy shared common room behind it. She pushed past Malfoy, eager to get to bed.

For a moment Hermione was bewildered by the beauty of the room she had entered and she stood dumbly just in front of the portrait hole. It was a stone walled room, like all the rooms in the castle, but it was warm and inviting due to the merry fire blazing in the magnificent fireplace in the centre of one wall that lit everything with a warm glow. The furnishings were a mixture of green and crimson (presumably because of the house colours of the two of them, thought Hermione). The carpet was crimson but the cushions and throws on the couches were green. Somehow, it worked. On either side of the room were two hangings, one emblazoned with the Gryffindor crest and the other with the Slytherin crest. There were two mahogany desks covered with an array of stationary, and a collection of armchairs, sofas and tables, one topped with a beautiful wooden wizard chess set, were scattered around the large room. One wall was covered by an enormous bookcase full of leather tomes that Hermione decided to examine at length as soon as she got the chance. Directly opposite her were three wooden doors spaced well apart, raised on a slightly higher level to the rest of the room, so that there was a step. The centre one, Hermione guessed, must be a bathroom and she cringed at the thought of having to share a bathroom with Malfoy. The other two were clearly their bedrooms, as Hermione's initials were carved into the left door and Malfoy's into the right. Hermione noted that each door had a lock and she was relieved to know that she would at least have some privacy.

The entire room was breathtakingly beautiful and very luxurious. Malfoy, however, didn't seem to agree as Hermione heard him snort from behind her and mutter something about "nothing compared to the Manor." Without a word to her he stalked towards his room. Hermione felt she should say something.

"I suppose this means we have to be civil to each other then?" she ventured, extending a wary smile towards him. He said nothing for a second but opened the door to his room, stepped inside and looked back out at her.

"Not if I can help it," he snarled, slamming the door closed.

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><p><strong>Don't forget to review :)<strong>


	2. Unity

**A/N – If I'd have had it my way, this would have been uploaded days ago… unfortunately, FF seemed to have other ideas, and despite multiple attempts to upload it, I haven't been able to submit this Chapter until now :(**  
><strong>Anyway, thank-yous to everyone who reviewed the first part! I love it when I get e-mails saying that people have reviewed or favourited or something, it really brightens my day!<strong>  
><strong>So my co-writer and I have around 50 more pages of writing archived and ready to go for slow, steady release, so don't worry about me abandoning this- I won't be! I intend this fic to be really drawn out because I find it's the only way to make Dramione happen realistically, so that's just a heads up!<strong>  
><strong>Anyway, enough of me… read, review, enjoy.<strong>

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><p>Draco swaggered down the corridor, trying to ignore the increasingly frustrated and high pitched cries that were following him. Granger was tailing him again. She had been doing it all week; she followed him around the school like some kind of hound dog and it was very irritating. Not only was it embarrassing but it was also highly unnecessary. Granger could easily speak to him about whatever she needed after classes, considering that they shared a dorm, but instead she chose to chase him through the corridors. As if it wasn't annoying enough, the fact that she, a Mudblood, had the audacity to hunt him down regularly and inform him of decisions she had made like he was some kind of sidekick was maddening. He was her superior in almost every way, least of all blood, and he considered their intelligence equally matched – he just chose not to showboat in classes like she did, the little know-it-all. Even his fellow Slytherins, and friends of his, such as Blaise Zabini, were commenting on her behaviour, suggesting that she had ulterior motives for stalking him around school. It was driving him crazy, and Draco was sure she was following him during the school day instead of speaking privately with him purposely to get to him.<p>

Turning a corner, he started down a staircase and had almost reached the bottom when he was apprehended by a mass of bushy brown hair with a person attached to it. Granger had caught up with him and Draco groaned. Before he knew what was happening she had grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around the nearest corner and into an empty Charms classroom. Draco shrank away from her as if scorched.

"What did I say about touching me, Mudblood?" he fumed as she hastily closed the door. "And also, I demand you stop following me round school! People are talking; they seem to think that we're actually friends," he added with a look of disgust.

It seemed she wasn't going to retaliate to either of his quips because she looked up and faced him with a calm expression.

"I only follow you because you avoid me in the dorm, Malfoy. Anyway, I only have five minutes before Arithmancy so I'll make this quick."

She grabbed her bag and pulled out two pieces of parchment. Written on each was some kind of grid as far as Draco could see. She passed one to him and kept one for herself.

"As you can see, I've made up the patrol schedule and list of partners. It's effective from Monday, so we only have three days to get the word out to the prefects. I was thinking of having a meeting in our common room tonight. Sound fair?"

It sounded to Draco like Granger would be having this meeting whether he liked it or not. Solemnly and begrudgingly he nodded his approval and so she began repacking her bag. Draco was struck by how very much she had reminded him of McGonagall just then when she had spoken. It seemed she was striving to keep their new relationship entirely professional, minus the taunts and jibes they so frequently dished out. He however, wouldn't do anything of the sort. Taunting her and making her miserable was too much like a sport for him to stop it. He stopped thinking and studied the schedule.

"Wait a minute," he called coldly to the now leaving Hermione. He had just seen something that had annoyed him a lot. "You have me down for three duties a week. No, wait, four duties a week. Everyone else only has two."

"And?" she asked.

Draco got even more irritated. "_And,_ I hardly think it's fair that I have to spend four hours a week with-" he consulted the schedule, "-with Lavender Brown. Dear God, she's that idiot from Potions isn't she? I demand you change the schedule right now."

"No," said Granger defiantly, her professional air slipping slightly. She sounded a little like a petulant child.

"No?" asked Draco, his voice dangerously soft.

"You don't want to be civil, Malfoy, you said so yourself, so I'm not obligated to be." With that she opened the door and stormed out.

"But I have Quidditch practise!" he yelled angrily after her, but he got no reply.

He swore loudly. Stupid little bitch, he thought. How dare she try and take away his free time, the time he used for himself and, more often than not, himself and a lady friend. Fuming he kicked a nearby chair in frustration. Loathsome little Mudblood. Of course, he'd do two of the patrols, he was obligated to; if he didn't he'd lose his Head-Boy-ship and he couldn't have that. Taunting Granger was too much fun. No, he'd do two, but she was damned if he'd do the others. He'd have to find a way to get back at her for this, perhaps spoil her free time as she had attempted to spoil his. Yes, it was childish and below his level, but he was so angry at her for making a fool out of him that he didn't care. If she wanted war, she'd get it. Suddenly, the bell to signal the next class rang and Draco jumped up to run to the greenhouses for Herbology before he was late for the second time in the first week.

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><p>Hermione was sat in the common room at her desk, happily writing a History of Magic Essay about Goblin Rebellions of the fifteen-hundreds. She was eager to finish it so she would have enough time to prepare for the prefect meeting scheduled later, and though it was already two feet of parchment longer than Professor Binns had asked for, she still didn't feel like it was done. A fire was crackling in the grate, no doubt set up by house elves, and feeling its warmth Hermione reminded herself to resume S.P.E.W. activities as soon as she got the chance. After this slight pause she resumed her writing, occasionally stopping to siphon ink, which had splattered around her essay as a result of her furious scribbling, off her parchment with her wand.<p>

She had been writing contentedly for around an hour when she heard a noise from the corridor outside the portrait hole. She paused momentarily, her quill poised in the air over her parchment as she listened to the low, muffled noises. Not being able to decipher their cause, she returned to her work and two minutes later she was sucked back into her haze of dates, places and names. But then a couple of minutes later came the noises again, louder than before. Curiosity aroused, Hermione put down her quill, leaving it on top of her half-finished essay and walked towards the portrait hole. It swung open and glancing around it took Hermione a few seconds to register what was happening in the corridor.

It was Malfoy. More specifically, Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. Both appeared to Hermione to be trying to swallow the others tonsils. It was quite sickening. Pansy, who Hermione regarded as little more than a Slytherin whore and Malfoy's lapdog, was indeed living up to her reputation. Her robes were pulled up around one thigh which was hooked around Malfoy's waist. His hands roamed her thighs and chest respectively. Pansy was making disgusting little moans every so often, and these seemed to be the noises Hermione had been hearing through the wall. She felt ill. She considered it the most nauseating thing she had ever seen in public, and that included Ron and 'Lav-Lav' last year.

Stomach churning and with a sense of intrusion, disgust and embarrassment combined filling her she coughed softly. The Slytherins sprang apart. Hermione noticed with distaste Parkinson try to wipe a string of saliva subtly from her chin. She almost gagged.

"What on Earth are you doing out here?"

"I thought you were supposed to be clever, Granger?" taunted Malfoy with a smirk. Pansy simpered at him, draping herself on his shoulder. Both of their lips were swelled and very pink. "Evidently you're too much of a prude to know anything of real importance. We were kissing, Mudblood, not that it's any of your business." Malfoy appeared to be quite enjoying himself. Pansy giggled stupidly.

"Oh really? Because it seemed to me that you were trying to eat Parkinson's face. Silly me," said Hermione angrily. Pansy scowled at her murderously.

"What I do in the corridors is none of your business Granger. Now if you don't mind, I still have over thirty minutes until we're required to attend your little meeting and I plan on using every one of them," said Malfoy, giving Pansy a playful slap on the behind. She responded by squealing with delight, hooking her arms around Malfoy's neck and reattaching herself to his face.

With a sigh, Hermione returned to the common room, taking care to cast a Silencing Charm on the portrait hole as she did so. Settling back at her desk she tried to resume her essay but quickly realised it was no use. She couldn't get the vile image of Malfoy and Pansy out of her head. Probably it had been his intention, the little ferret, to annoy her and mentally torture her as revenge for his double rounds hours. She assumed that he was merely testing her, pushing her buttons to see what irritated her most so he could abuse it for the rest of the year. That bastard, she thought, and she was shocked at her language, even in her own head but Malfoy brought out the wrong side of her. And the worst part was he knew how do it easily. Even after years of his abuse she still got a little angry every time he called her 'Mudblood.' Of course she'd got her own back a little in third year when she'd punched him for insulting Hagrid, but that had been a long time ago. Much more had happened since then.

Like Dumbledore's attempted murder and Death Eaters taking over the school. That had been all Malfoy's fault. Of course Dumbledore hadn't died because Malfoy hadn't killed him. Harry had later told Hermione that when Snape was called upon to kill Dumbledore he couldn't do it and had died, due to having broken and Unbreakable Vow. Now, teacher-less, there were no more Defence Against The Dark Arts classes, though Hermione thought that given the situation, this was the most important class of all. She, along with all the other students, now had several free periods a week where they were supposed to do homework, though it seemed only Hermione actually used them for that purpose. She was sure if he were at Hogwarts, Ron would have told her to stop doing her homework in her free lessons and have fun with him and Harry instead.

Even thinking so fleetingly of Harry and Ron reminded Hermione of the dull, gnawing ache in her stomach which hadn't dissipated at all even after a week of school, of distractions. She still had no idea of her real purpose at Hogwarts and it was maddening. Consequently, she felt even guiltier for not being with Harry and Ron because she seemed to be doing nothing of importance at school. She wondered often where they were, what they were doing, if they were ok, if they had found any Horcruxes. Of course, they'd only been gone for two weeks but it was already incredibly difficult, especially as she'd had no contact with them. The worst of it was she had no-one to talk to about it: not her mother and father, who were safely hidden in Australia and had no idea who she was; not Ginny because while she would understand, she would then bombard Hermione with her own problems which she did not need; not a teacher because she wouldn't even know where to begin. And even if she did have someone to talk to, she reminded herself, the trio had performed the Fidelius Charm to conceal the nature of their mission, meaning she was a Secret-Keeper and revealing the information of what the boys were doing in order to talk about it properly would be incredibly dangerous for them.

What she needed was someone else who knew the secret, someone she could talk to without fear of leaking the information to an untrustworthy source… and then the blindingly obvious hit her and she felt incredibly stupid for not realising sooner. She could talk to Fred and George. The three had told them the secret, just in case anything happened to them, so that at least someone would know how to defeat Voldemort. Why hadn't she realised earlier? She had grown quite close to the twins over the summer at the Burrow, and of course, Ron being their brother, they would understand how lonely and lost she felt without him and Harry. She decided to write to them as soon as possible and felt much better for it. Consulting the clock she straightened her uniform and moved her essay to her room as the prefects were bound to arrive soon.

About twenty minutes later all the prefects (including a slightly dishevelled looking Malfoy and Pansy) had arrived in the Heads common room. Hermione stood up and waited for them to be quiet.

"Hello," she said. She felt slightly awkward talking to a group of her peers as their superior. She was unsure of where to begin. "I'm Hermione; I think you all know me. Erm… well, this meeting is just about patrol duty really." She paused, and everyone started at her expectantly. "Well, as you all should know, as prefects you have to do rounds in the evening. It's mostly just making sure students aren't out of bed after curfew, but this year especially it's also a safety measure." Malfoy snorted audibly while Ernie Macmillan puffed out his chest pompously, as though he felt that his patrolling especially would keep the castle safe. Hermione tried not to laugh. "But, well… they're a little different than usual this year. Normally, you'd patrol with another prefect from your house, but since Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore want to promote house unity they want all patrol pairs boy-girl -" There was a sweep of distasteful muttering. "-and they want us to pair up partners Ravenclaws with Hufflepuffs and Slytherins with Gryffindors."

As Hermione knew there would be, there was uproar. She watched as the Gryffindor prefects stared at the Slytherin Prefects with disgust while they glared evilly back, and she saw the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws looking less murderous but still not very happy. Malfoy, unperturbed by this old news, sat looking bored in an armchair, reclining lazily. Hermione tried to restore order.

"I know it's hardly an ideal situation," she called, while shooting a glare at Malfoy who grimaced back, "but we can't help it. Here are the rounds schedules," she added, removing her wand from her robes pocket and waving it so that a timetable appeared before each prefect, "and it's effective from Monday. If I were you I'd take a little time now to get to know your partners because you'll be spending a lot of time with them this year. Otherwise, the meeting's over."

She fell silent and saw Lavender Brown (her prefect replacement) run excitedly over to Malfoy, eyeing up his face and body with delight, and Ernie Macmillan ostentatiously stride towards Padma Patil, who looked thoroughly unimpressed. She was also pleased to note that Pansy did not look impressed to be partnered with Neville Longbottom, who'd taken over Ron's role as Gryffindor prefect in his absence, though she did feel a little bad for lumbering him with a spiteful girl like Pansy. She thought she'd better try and lead by example and meet her rounds partner, and casting her eyes apprehensively around the room she located the only other Slytherin male besides Malfoy.

"Hello," she said nervously, walking over. "I'm Herm-"

"I know who you are, Hermione," said her partner, irritably. "You introduced yourself at the start. Plus, everyone knows who the star of Gryffindor is."

Hermione was taken aback by his bluntness. His face quickly turned from irritated to concerned.

"I'm sorry," he said hurriedly, and if Hermione was startled before, she was even more shocked to hear a Slytherin apologise. "I didn't mean to be so short with you. I've had a long day," he laughed, extending a hand. "Theodore Nott, Draco's replacement prefect… but of course you already knew that didn't you?" he asked with a smile.

His eyes were warm and looked genuinely friendly which led Hermione to cautiously shake his hand.

"Yes, I suppose I did," she said.

Why was he being so nice to her, she wondered? He was a Slytherin and she was a Muggleborn. His niceties and manners were against all common practice and all her previous experience with Slytherins.

"I see our first rounds together are…" he paused to check his timetable, "…Tuesday evening. Well, I have to dash now, I have a Transfiguration essay to finish for tomorrow, but I look forward to it."

He still hadn't let go of her hand. His face was lit up with a smile so unlike Malfoy's sneer and his eyes gleamed with warmth that made him look incredibly friendly in the cheerful, fire lit glow of the common room. His hand was warm and soft in hers and he made no attempt to let go. He was a Pureblood, and Hermione knew his father to be a Death Eater, and yet he was touching her hand without shrinking away or cringing in disgust as Malfoy would have done. It was nice. Hermione was still staring at him, keeping his eye contact. He really did have very nice eyes.

"I look forward to it too… Theodore," she said, meaning it, and trying out his name for the first time on her tongue. He smiled broadly and Hermione was struck by how much it accentuated his features. She felt a stirring somewhere in the region of her stomach. She finally let go of his hand, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

"Please, call me Theo," he said softly, giving her one last smile before exiting the common room.

Hermione was still smiling and was absentmindedly clutching the hand Theo had touched to her chest, staring at the portrait hole. Her heart lifted- it seemed rounds weren't going to be the torture she had imagined. Silently, still smiling, she made her way to her bedroom.

Over in the corner in his chair, unbeknownst to Hermione, Draco had been watching the scene with a look of great displeasure.

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	3. Threats

**So here's another upload for you lovely people :) Thank you to everyone who reviewed, please feel free to review this chapter too, and if you haven't yet reviewed PLEASE do! I love reading them :)**

**Last thing- Random Harry Potter Anecdote: My co-writer and I spent the evening tonight at a friend's house. She's not a big Potterhead, but we watched DH part 2 anyway and while me and co-writer were bawling and sobbing like anything, she was sat in the corner and laughing at us, making jokes about poor Fred and George so we'd keep choking up more. She said she wished she'd videoed it... It just made me smile to know that unless you're a Potterhead, you aren't affected too much by the trauma of the deaths in the films, and you don't really understand the loss we feel even if it's just about fictional characters :') **

**Right, I'm done. Read.**

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><p>All in all, when Hermione woke the next morning, she felt the prefect meeting of the night before could certainly be considered a success. The aftermath of her less-than-confrontational conversation with Theo had given her a happy glow that she'd carried with her from the remainder of the evening and into Friday morning. In fact, her new-found positivity had counteracted the distraction of the stomach-churning Pansy-Draco image, meaning she'd managed to finish her History of Magic essay last night. And, of course, she was thoroughly looking forward to Tuesday<em>. Things were finally looking up<em>, she thought.

The only thing dampening Hermione's mood was, in fact, the very thing that had caused it in the first place. Hermione was slightly alarmed that the briefest of interactions with Theo had made her feel so incredibly happy. When she broke it down logically, she supposed it was because she was just shocked that Theo was the first decent Slytherin she had ever met and it was the lingering surprise that was making her so cheerful. Of course, she worried a little that perhaps she may be actually attracted to him, as ridiculous as that was. He was, undeniably, a very handsome young man, and charming too. But she was less worried about the potential for attraction as she was about what Ron would think of her if she did end up fancying Theo. To say he wouldn't be happy was an understatement. She very much loved Ron, and was almost certain that he loved her back. There had been an odd moment just before he left during summer when he had pulled her to one side and kissed her. Hermione had been very pleased because she had been waiting for it for a long time, and now the thought of kissing anyone else filled her with an enormous sense of guilt. But she could be still be friends with Theo, couldn't she? Of course, Ron wouldn't like that either, but Hermione wasn't one to change what she wanted to do because of what somebody else thought (except when it came to being with Ron). Therefore, she decided, she should only feel guilty if she kissed Theo. Which she didn't plan on doing. At all. And so, she proceeded to perform her morning routine by getting up, blocking all of her thoughts for now, and walking into the bathroom she unfortunately shared with Malfoy. As she did every morning, with her wand she locked the door with a Locking Charm (just in case) and took a long, hot shower.

When she was done, she wrapped herself in a towel and moved towards the mirror. Gazing at her reflection she scrutinised her features, something she rarely did. She was, she thought, not unattractive. Her brown hair, while bushy generally, could easily be tamed into soft, bouncy curls- she just never really bothered with it. Luckily for her, her skin was clear and pale, almost alabaster white, with a slight pink blush to her cheeks and full pink lips, all set in a heart shaped face. Her eyes, she supposed, were quite nice too; they were dark, chocolate pools framed with thick, dark lashes. While she rarely examined it at length, she was aware that her body wasn't too hideous either; she had a slim waist, curvy, feminine hips and full breasts- she just didn't show it all off and give it away to anyone like Parkinson did.

Drying off, she dressed in her modest school uniform and swinging her heavy bag on her shoulder she walked out into the common room, intending to meet Ginny in the Great Hall for breakfast. She was humming softly to herself, still in the same pleasant mood as when she had woken up, when she was suddenly flung around and pressed roughly against the stone wall. The rought rock scraped her skin and it stung through her uniform. She let out a whimper of fear and surprise when she felt Malfoy pin her painfully into the wall, holding both her hands tight in one of his so she couldn't move. He pressed a cold hand against her throat. His grey eyes were like ice and he looked furious.

"What the fuck did you think you were doing last night?" growled Malfoy, softly and dangerously.

"W-What?" chattered Hermione, confused.

"With Nott? I don't know what the fuck you think you're playing at, Mudblood scum, but Purebloods and your kind don't mix. Ever. Understood?" His hand squeezed threateningly around her throat and she whimpered in fright.

"But… but we're patrol partners… I have to mix with him… Professor McGonagall said-"

"I don't care what McGonagall said you filthy creature. You will not associate with him, lest you contaminate him like the scum you are," he spat viciously.

A tear rolled down her cheek. She was terrified and she felt incredibly demeaned. She was angry that Malfoy had made her cry; she was confused and fearful and she was incredibly worried about her wellbeing because of Malfoy's gently flexing hand on her vulnerable neck. She felt sure that he would be able to feel how fast her heart was racing and the flushing of blood through the veins under his white hands.

"And if I find that you've been… 'mingling' with him Granger… well let's just say this is me being cute and cuddly compared to what I will do to you then. You have no place in Theo's life," he said mockingly, with an evil smirk. Once more his hand flexed tightly and menacingly around her throat which was starting to really hurt her. More tears came flowing from her fearful eyes.

"M-mingling?" she asked, choking out the words. "I-I don't understand w-what you m-mean."

"I saw how you looked at him Granger. Don't get any silly ideas though. Nobody, especially Theo, would ever go for an ugly piece of filth like you."

With that, he released her and she crumpled to the floor, a sobbing mess. Her breath came in harsh gasps that ripped down her windpipe as though sandpaper was rubbing against it. She heard him cross the room and leave by the portrait hole but for a long time she didn't move. She just sat on the common room floor and cried, cursing herself in her head for being so stupid as to think that things were going well for a change.

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><p>Draco spent the rest of his Friday in a foul mood. <em>Damn that Mudblood<em>, he thought. She always had to rile him up. While he felt that perhaps he had used excessive force towards her in the common room (and generally speaking, he didn't agree with violence towards females), he wasn't sorry for scaring and threatening her because it had been necessary. He had been doing it to protect Theo and his heritage and to save him from the anger that associating with a Mudblood would cause from his peers and family.

Draco knew well enough that if Theo did (God forbid) begin a relationship with Granger he would be isolated and cut off from the world he belonged too, and Draco knew how it felt to be that lonely. He had experienced the feeling of not being able to talk to anyone last year, when his mission from Voldemort had cut him off from his family and his friends and mentors. He shuddered at the memory. Draco did not wish that on Theo, and so his bullying had actually been, he thought, an act of compassion.

Although, he had to admit that he had done it partially because he was angry. That vile Granger had been talking –no, _flirting_- with Theo right under Draco's nose, holding his hand near enough, as though she was determined to rub her and Theo's disgusting inter-race show in Draco's face. Threatening Granger before she had a chance to taint Theo's reputation had been the sole option as far as Draco could see. He had been so angry last night, angrier than he had ever been. Of course, he thought, it was purely because it had seemed to him that Theo had been treating Granger like an actual person, not the inferior being she was. He had been nice to her, charming even, flashing the smile that he had learned from Draco years ago, the smile that was guaranteed to seduce any witch. And yet while Nott could have used that smile to charm anyone he wanted, he had chosen Granger- or at least, that was what it had seemed to Draco and it had confused him.

Draco found out in Potions that Granger had not been in classes all day, overhearing the information from his soon-to-be rounds partner Lavender and her equally dim friend, something-Patil. Noting her empty desk, he did feel a small pang of something he recognised as remorse- but still, he convinced himself, Granger had deserved it. Theo's bloodline and their shared Pureblood heritage took priority over some silly little Muggleborn's feelings.

However, while he was loathe to admit it, Draco had to acknowledge that Theo had played an equal part in his fury. He had hardly given Granger the brush off; in fact it had appeared that he had quite enjoyed his encounter with her. _What was he thinking_, wondered Draco, _to go against everything he should know to flirt with a silly little Mudblood like Granger?_ He'd have to talk to him to find out what was going on. Theo had to have an ulterior motive- he was a Slytherin after all. Perhaps, thought Draco, it was some brilliant plan for a practical joke at Granger's expense that he had yet to reveal to Draco. He hoped he'd find out soon, but was distracted from his thoughts when Professor Slughorn wandered over and eyed the Veritaserum he was supposed to be producing with obvious concern- it was supposed to be a pale blue and to turn clear when heated and stirred gently; it was currently an awful shade of pastel pink, and so Draco hastened to correct it.

That evening, he walked into the Great Hall, intent on speaking to Theo over dinner. For the first time since the morning, Draco spotted Granger sat next to the irritating red-headed Weasley girl at the Gryffindor table. He also spied Theo sitting, as usual, on his own on the Slytherin table, behind the Gryffindors. To get to Theo, Draco had to walk past Weasley and Granger, who appeared to be deep in conversation. He hastened forward, catching a snippet of their words as he approached.

"…and you weren't in classes all day Hermione, that isn't normal. Please tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong; I told you, I'm fine. I was just… I was just sad because I miss Harry and Ron," Hermione lied. Draco grimaced. He was almost level with them now.

"Oh. I miss them too, I know how you- Hermione!" gasped Weasley. "Your neck; it's all bruised! What ha-?"

"Nothing Ginny," said Hermione sharply. "It's nothing."

She looked up and caught Draco's eye when he looked back at them. The Weasley girl looked appalled while Hermione was glaring hatefully at him. He noticed she did indeed have five small, oval shaped bruises on her neck and he recognised them as bruises from his fingertips where he'd grabbed her. He kept his face blank and looked away.

Arriving at his house table, Draco slid himself into the free space on the other side of the table to Theo. Theo looked up and half-smiled at him in greeting before silently returning to his food. _Typical, _he thought,_ Theo was always happiest when he was by himself. _Helping himself to food, Draco tried to casually strike up conversation.

"Hello Theo. Seen Zabini around recently?" He tried to avoid Theo's eye- they were friends of course, but he tended to stare at you as though he could see inside your head, and Draco found it a little creepy.

"Why, my company not good enough for you Draco?"

"I didn't think you liked company," Draco laughed and looked up gesturing to the empty seats either side of Theo, who smiled.

"Just because I don't often have company doesn't mean I don't like it." Draco met his gaze and saw that Theo was still smiling. He was happy that the talk had started lightly; he didn't want what he needed to ask to become an interrogation, but at the same time he couldn't find a way to drop the topic of Granger into the chat. Luckily for him, Theo swung the conversation nearer the subject.

"So, how's being Head Boy treating you? The dorm isn't the same without you- Crabbe and Goyle are beside themselves now you aren't around as much," he smirked roguishly.

"You know as well as I that those oafs were never really my friends, not like you and Zabini. At least I can hold intelligent conversation with you as opposed to grunts of agreement."

"That's true- they're hardly eloquent, are they?"

Both boys laughed and there was a small pause while they ate a little and Draco tried to think of a way to steer the conversation closer to Granger.

"I must say though," he added after a pause, "being Head Boy isn't all it's cracked up to be; patrols, duties, responsibilities, and, of course, having to live with that damn Granger. She's utterly insufferable. Who's idea was it to put that on me? I mean, why would I want to live with a Mudblood for a year?" He congratulated himself for transitioning the topic so smoothly.

"Come on Draco, surely she can't be that bad?"

"What would you know? You don't have to live with her."

"She seems nice enough," replied Theo guardedly, raising his eyebrows.

"'Seems' being the operative word." Why was Theo defending her? "But even if she was, she's a Mudblood. She's beneath us. We don't associate with her kind."

"'We'?" asked Theo. "I hardly think you can speak for me, Malfoy."

His voice had become slightly sharper. Draco nearly dropped his fork in shock. What on Earth was he trying to say?

"What do you mean,, Theo? That you want to associate with her? That you like her?"

There was a very pregnant pause. Theo pushed away his plate and set down his cutlery.

"I mean that she's a girl, a very attractive girl, and I'm a boy, and whatever might happen will happen. You may not like her, but so what if I do? Blood status doesn't bother me anymore. I really don't understand why it's such a big deal to our families, my father especially. Why should he get a say about who I choose to date?"

If Theo was angry then he was hiding it well, as his tone was calm and even. Draco however, could feel rage bubbling up inside of him.

"So you're saying you want to date her? Is that it?" he cut in savagely.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I've barely spoken to her. But I fully intend to speak to her more. I'm done with living my life by my father's rules since I personally think they're ridiculous. Besides, I doubt he'll care; he cares more about the Dark Lord than he does about me. But to be honest Malfoy, I hardly think this is any of your business. Why should it matter to you if I associate with Muggleborns?" he replied coolly.

"I'm trying to look out for you, as a friend! If you end up dating her you're throwing everything you know away; you'll be isolated and looked down on by your family and your friends. I don't want that for you, or for anyone. We're Purebloods, Theo! We don't do things like this!" Malfoy fumed loudly, earning him looks from nearby students.

"Back to that are we?" Theo sounded slightly angry now. It seemed he was struggling to retain his irritation. "Is that all you've got? Is that the only reason you have against me pursuing Granger?"

Draco couldn't reply, mostly because he knew Theo was right. Instead, he allowed his anger to get the better of him.

"Theo, I'm warning you-"

"Threaten me all you like Malfoy, it won't work. I'm not one of your little cronies you can bend to your will. What I do, or don't do, with Granger is none of your business, and I assure you, threats won't change my mind. If you really were my friend you'd leave me to it and stop meddling where you aren't needed."

Draco stood, almost knocking over a goblet of pumpkin juice. Several people were staring at him. Before he could react, Zabini strode behind him, clapped him firmly on the shoulder and sat down, pulling him back down to sit beside him.

"What's got you so worked up, Ferret?" he asked light-heartedly. He mistook Draco's murderous glare for a look of insult. "Oh, lighten up Draco! It's only a nickname. You may as well embrace it; if it hasn't disappeared after three years it won't be going away anytime soon. And besides, what's a nickname between friends?" he smiled, looking from Draco to Theo and back again noticing the glowers they were giving each other. Normally Draco enjoyed Blaise's company but at the minute his unusual cheerfulness was beginning to grate.

"Boys! What's the matter?"

"I'm sorry gentlemen," said Theo, getting up. "I have somewhere to be."

With that he swept out of the Great Hall.

"What happened there?" asked Blaise in surprise. He had rarely seen Theo looking so aggravated. Draco didn't reply, but clenched his fists and tried to quell the anger that was coursing through him.

"Come on Draco," said Blaise, heaping potatoes on his plate, "tell me what's the matter. No, actually, on second thoughts I don't care. Pass me the lamb chops?"

"What's gotten you in this disgustingly good mood?" asked Draco sullenly, passing the platter of meat then picking up his fork and eating a little of his own food, which was now quite cold.

"Oh, nothing in particular. Although, now that you mention it, I just spend three rather enjoyable hours in the company of Daphne Greengrass, in the Astronomy Tower… and then my dorm… and in the library…" smirked Zabini with a wink.

"Ahh, a girl. Say no more," said Draco.

Girls could always be counted on to lighten Zabini's mood. Draco thought that maybe he should take a leaf out of his book and find Pansy after dinner to take his mind off Theo's particularly poor taste in women. Then again, he didn't find the idea of Pansy forcing him to cuddle her and actually talk to her particularly pleasing. She really was irritating; it was just fortunate for her that she was quite good in bed.

"You've been spending an awful lot of time with Daphne lately."

"Yeah. We… well; we had an encounter at the start of the holidays and spend the majority of the rest of it in each other's company." Blaise smirked again. "But I was actually thinking of taking her with me on the Hogsmeade trip at the end of October."

"So it's more than just sex is it?" Draco snorted as though the idea was unappealing to him.

"I think it may be, yes," said Zabini slyly.

"Well, good luck to you on that one, Blaise. Anyway, I'm off to my dorm. Binns wants three feet of parchment on the International Warlocks Convention of 1289… I don't fancy leaving that until Sunday." He stood up and pushed his now empty plate away.

"Ok then, have fun!" Blaise grinned sarcastically. "And maybe you should stop by the dungeons on your way and visit Pansy? You look like you could do with a pick-me-up," he suggested cheekily.

"I don't think so. I'm too tired," said Draco and with a nod of farewell to Zabini he left. The truth was he just really didn't want to, which was, in fact, a first.

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	4. Kiss

**A/N - another update for you lovely people.**

**Reviews make me happy and they make you supermegafoxyawesomehot. Special thank you for reviewing the last part; they've been my favourite ones so far, your support feels crazy good. :)**

**Now enjoy!**

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><p>The sky around Hogwarts was dark and thick with heavy, charcoal covered clouds which promised to deliver rain and obscured the stars above them. Occasionally they shifted, allowing the moon a glimpse of the Earth and silvery light to illuminate the grounds. Despite the thick cloud cover, the Forbidden Forest and surrounding grounds looked majestic. It was the kind of night that drew the eye to the scenery when one passed a window or a doorway and several students looking out of common room windows were enraptured with the iridescent beauty of the landscape around Hogwarts, bathed in a silvery glow… Hermione, however, was oblivious to the weather outside.<p>

For the past hour or so she'd been locked in the bathroom, showering, dressing and then making herself look, for lack of a better word, _pretty_… though she didn't really know why.

She had spent five minutes taming the mane she called hair into soft elegant curls and was only now satisfied with them. Most unusually, she had also experimented with make-up (supplied by Ginny, who had asked no questions when it was requested and merely handed her make-up bag over with a confused expression) and so Hermione was quite happy with her resultant look.

Again, she wondered why she was going to such an effort to look nice for the evening- after all, it was only a couple of hours doing rounds. Theo and herself were supposed to start patrol at the Astronomy Tower at eight and patrol the corridors around the rest of the school until midnight. Despite how boring the task sounded, Hermione was eager to leave and was rather excited, and had an idea that it was something to do with who she would be spending her rounds with.

But just as one area of her life had begun to look up, so another had to go wrong. Malfoy had been unbearably irritating to her since the incident in the common room on Friday. Initially, Hermione had been glad when he had taken to avoiding her when he had arrived back after dinner on Friday while she was at her desk in the common room. He had said nothing and didn't even look at her. She had stiffened when he had entered, memories of his violent nature flooding back and filling her with fear again, but he had left her and quietly locked himself in his room.

In fact, he had ignored her completely since then. It had been nice at first, but by Sunday it had gotten very irritating. Hermione had had several things she needed to discuss with him but the Head Boy had continued acting like she didn't exist. It had made her life quite difficult and she even found herself wishing fondly that he would revert back to the bullying, arrogant, mean and insulting arse he was.

And then there had been the girls. In just three days it seemed to Hermione that Malfoy had succeeded in sleeping with half the female population of Hogwarts, or at least half of the girls from fifth year and above. Hermione recalled a particularly awkward moment when she had walked into the common room late Saturday evening only to bump into a dishevelled looking Hannah Abbott of Hufflepuff attempting to make a discreet and hurried exit. Her blonde hair had been ruffled and she had blushed crimson as she had speedily left the room.

But all through Saturday, Hermione had let it go, coping with the steady stream of girls coming and going. In fact, she had been slightly grateful that as far as she was aware, Pansy had not been among Malfoy's recent conquests, though it struck her as odd because she had thought Pansy was his girlfriend. But she was glad of her absence, as past experience had led her to conclude that Parkinson would be loud.

But by Sunday, it seemed Draco had found some substitutes for her volume, and the screams and groans emanating from his room were very distracting. It seemed Malfoy had made his walls and the walls of their adjoining shared bathroom impervious to Silencing Charms, as they had had little effect, and it was the sort of irritating thing he would do. The final straw had come when the various breathy moans and Malfoy's loud and disgusting grunts had prevented her from concentrating on a difficult Transfiguration essay. Professor McGonagall had handed it back to her that morning and had asked her if she was feeling alright, because for the first time Hermione had completed a less-than-perfect piece of homework. Granted, she had only lost one mark, but still, it was Malfoy's sexual activities that had distracted her from her studies and the thought had made her very, very angry. She had marched into her dorm that evening determined to ignore Malfoy's threats and to patrol with Theo anyway as her rage had annihilated any residual fear. She wanted to irritate him just as he had irritated her, and this seemed to her the perfect opportunity to do it.

As she made her way into the common room about ten minutes later, Hermione bumped into another of Malfoy's girls making a hasty exit. This time she identified his unfortunate partner as Tracey Davis from Slytherin, who tossed her hair back haughtily when she heard Hermione's snort of contempt. Just after she had left and Hermione herself was preparing to leave, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard Malfoy's annoying, sarcastic drawl from behind her.

"Off to patrol the school, Granger?"

Startled, Hermione spun around to see Malfoy standing in his doorframe. Evidently, he had been watching Tracey leave.

"I shall sleep safe in my bed tonight knowing that you're keeping the castle safe," he said mockingly.

Hermione was slightly relieved that he was talking to her again although irritated by his jibe.

"Sleeping, Malfoy? I rather doubt you'll be doing much of that, not with all your conjugal visitors," she retorted.

"Oh, you noticed?" he feigned surprise. "I can't help it if I'm in demand Granger. Although perhaps I may take tonight to rest, I'm rather worn out after the past few days."

Hermione was livid. The one night she was out of the dorm would be the one night he chose to cease his ridiculous quest of sleeping with the whole school.

"Keep it up at this rate and I'm afraid you'll have to lower your standards. I hear that Millicent Bulstrode is looking for a man, I imagine she'd jump at the chance to spend the night with you."

Hermione smirked when Malfoy's face blanched and he appeared to be overcome with a wave of nausea as he no doubt pictured what a night with Millicent would entail, however he quickly recovered.

"Perhaps I should ask those Patil twins to accompany me?" he retaliated.

Hermione felt rather like she was in a battle with him, parrying each of his snide remarks with one of her own. It was mentally exhausting.

"I've always wanted to shag twins." She flinched at his crude language. "Or maybe Granger… just maybe… you're only taking offense to my many lady friends because you're desperate to be one of them."

Hermione was taken aback by what he was suggesting and opened her mouth wide in shock while Malfoy smirked devilishly. Not being able to think of a witty reply immediately she paused and for the first time took in his appearance. She realised with a start that he was half-naked, clad only in a pair of emerald green boxer shorts.

His skin was milky white all over and his arms and chest were incredibly toned. His casual stance as he leaned on the doorframe showed of how muscular he was. He was clearly no longer the scrawny little toe-rag he had seemed to be in lower school. Hermione found herself thinking in spite of herself that he really was the most beautiful specimen of the human form she had ever seen, and then gave herself a quick mental slap for being so disgusting.

"Put your tongue in Mudblood, you're practically drooling. I know I'm handsome but I wouldn't sully myself with you even if you begged me." She tore her eyes from his body and looked in his eyes, aware that perhaps she had been staring a little, but only because she had never seen him so exposed before, she thought quickly. His innuendo and the attached insult registered with her and she scowled.

"I loathe you." She could think of nothing else to say.

"The feeling is more than mutual I assure you," Malfoy replied casually. "But anyway, I thought you're supposed to be on patrol. Why haven't you left me in peace yet?"

"I still have twenty minutes until I have to be at the Astronomy Tower. I was about to leave when I ran into your latest girlfriend," she quipped, still seething from his last insult.

"Who are you patrolling with?" he asked. His eyes flashed dangerously.

"My partner."

"Your new partner?"

"I don't have a new partner. I didn't change partners." Hermione was aware that she was entering dangerous territory but she held her ground.

"I thought I told you not to mix with Theo?" Malfoy growled, frowning.

"And I don't take orders from you. I don't see why you have such a problem with me associating with him; I only intend to be civil to him."

"Well if that is the case, Granger, and you intend to be merely civil to him, why have you bothered to make such an obvious effort to wander aimlessly around the school with him?" Malfoy's voice had become dangerously soft and he slowly began to cross the room towards her. Hermione did not move. "Why on Earth would you bother to tame your bushy locks, put on what I imagine are your nicest clothes and slather your face in makeup? If I had to hazard a guess, I would say it's because you want to be much more than 'civil' to him." He wasn't very far from her now.

"It's none of your business if I do or I don't. It's also none of your business who I choose to talk to. You have no authority over me. I have to talk to Theodore, and I will continue to all year because we have rounds together." Hermione knew she was provoking him but she was furious with him for ordering her around. His eyes were dark and she could see him struggling to contain his anger. "And in case you hadn't noticed, Theo doesn't seem to mind that he's mixing with someone who is so 'beneath him,' so I don't think you should mind. I'm not mixing with you, am I? Therefore, this is none of your concern."

Defiant as she sounded, she had to admit that she was a little intimidated by how close Malfoy was to her. It was awfully reminiscent of Thursday morning.

"I'm trying, as Theo's friend, to stop him making a tremendous mistake with you. If you encourage him, or make a move on him in any way, you're allowing him to throw away his entire future: his family, his friends, and his reputation. And you are most certainly not worth that, Granger. Bizarrely, for once, I'm not doing this with the sole purpose of making your life miserable, although if I do then it's a happy bonus. I'm doing this to protect a friend. I'm being compassionate," he smiled sarcastically at her. He towered over her petite frame. "I'm not going to resort to violence again, Mudblood, because fortunately for you they don't make soap strong enough to wash away your foul germs. But I will say that if you pursue Theo, you're ruining his entire life, so keep your distance. Now get out, before I change my mind."

Hermione stared at him as he walked back to his room. Was it her, or had she just witnessed a tiny part of Malfoy that wasn't totally evil? Was he really threatening her to protect his friend? It was a very odd thought. She made her way to the portrait hole and was about to leave when she heard Malfoy call out.

"Oh, and Granger? If you happen to see either of the Patil twins on your travels, send them my way won't you?"

She could still hear him laughing as the portrait hole swung shut. _No,_ she thought,_ same old vile Malfoy._

* * *

><p>Malfoy threw himself onto his bed and ran his hands through his white blonde hair. What was he doing? Why had he let that jumped up little Mudblood get to him like that? She was the only person he knew who made him so angry on such a regular basis. In fact, she made him so angry he wanted to hurt her- not even Potty or the Weasel had every accomplished that. She knew just how to get under his skin. Admittedly, he thought, that was probably largely because they were both just as intelligent as each other, meaning that her retorts to his sharp words could be equally painful and irritating.<p>

But he hadn't been so infuriated with her over the past few days, not really. Yes, he was still a little aggravated that she had been flirting with Theo since it wasn't her place, but now he knew Theo's intentions, most of his irritation was channelled towards him. It was, annoyingly enough, less Granger's fault than it was Theo's, but she wasn't exactly helping by insisting on spending time with him and being so damn stubborn. Draco had decided if he couldn't keep Theo away from Granger he supposed he would have to tug on her heartstrings to keep her away from him.

It was just that every time he thought of Theo and Granger spending time together he found himself getting angry, purely because, he thought, Granger was a Mudblood and it wasn't her place to associate with Theo like an equal. Even so, he wished he hadn't snapped like that and confessed that he was only threatening her to protect Theo- he had only meant to guilt-trip her into realising what the consequences of a friendship with Theo would be.

It didn't help that presently he was dealing with some kind of existential crisis too. Blaise's recent activities and newfound happiness with Daphne Greengrass had got Draco thinking. The very idea that Blaise Zabini, famed womaniser, could find a girl he was willing to spend time with outside of the bedroom was incredible, and so what did that say for Draco? It had triggered a re-evaluation of his (mostly physical) relationship with Pansy and so he hadn't seen her for a few days.

Zabini had changed his whole perspective on everything he had thought he wanted. He had found himself thinking that perhaps he should find a girl with whom he could connect on a deeper level, where a relationship with them wasn't just about sex, but was based around (though he hated to even think it) love. And so, he had spent the past few days trying to shag away those stupid, girly thoughts, sleeping his way through the females of Hogwarts in an attempt to rid himself of ridiculous notions of a real relationship. He had slept with string of girls, hoping to prove to himself that sex was enough for him and that it was all he wanted. Maddeningly enough, he had yet to convince himself that was the case. In fact, detached sex with many girls had made him feel, if possible, even more empty and confused about what he wanted.

Obviously, he wasn't going to tell Granger all this, and so he let her think that he was doing it to irritate her and had acted like the callous man-whore he was reputed to be during their argument. But he did feel like he needed to talk to someone about the bizarre thoughts he'd been having and to get all his anger towards Granger off his chest before he exploded. There would only have been two candidates in normal circumstances, Theo and Zabini. However, given his current situation with Theo, it would have to be Zabini. Sighing, he sat up and then got up, intent on finding the Patil twins to see if either one of them would help cease his odd thoughts about meaningful relationships with some meaningless sex.

* * *

><p>Hermione stormed angrily down the corridor, which was odd because she never stormed anywhere. The initial idea that there was a possibility that Malfoy actually had a nice side to him had vanished from her head the minute he had made that crude joke about the Patil twins as she was leaving. Strangely though, she thought, she had been less bothered that he had ordered her around again than she had been surprised that Malfoy actually seemed to care about someone other than himself. She had always thought of him as an entirely self-centred person who couldn't care less about the well-being of others. Now, she found herself wondering what other traits he was hiding.<p>

Then again, she reasoned, he could well have just been saying that to make her stay away from Theo. _Should she stay away from him,_ she wondered? Would it really cause him family to disown him and leave his life in tatters? She wouldn't wish that on anyone, and as Theo seemed rather nice, she certainly didn't want to cause his private life to crumble around him.

But on the other hand, that would only happen if Theo were to date her, wouldn't it? Befriending him would cause nothing of the sort, she thought. The relentless back and forth inside her own head was very confusing and so she tried to stop thinking about what damage she could potentially do to Theo's life, but she couldn't. She was beginning to feel very bad about her decision to keep Theo as her patrol partner if it would cause him only bad things. Well, at least according to Malfoy.

Thinking of him made her angry, as it usually did. He was being so incredibly difficult about the entire situation. He had been nothing but horrible to her, and all she had done was involuntarily become patrol partners with a Pureblood Slytherin. In fact, she'd only spoken to him once and Malfoy was acting as though they were getting married or something equally insane. She hoped that he was exaggerating the effect that a friendship with Theo could have on him, and then became angry again because if he was it was a very cruel thing to do.

Hermione was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't notice where her feet were taking her, and so she almost walked past Theo waiting for her at the bottom of the Astronomy Tower staircase. He grabbed her by the wrist and gently pulled her back.

"Woah Granger!" he chuckled, smiling handsomely at her startled expression. "That keen to avoid me are you?"

"No!" squealed Hermione, surprised by both his friendly manner and sudden appearance. "Of course not! Quite the opposite actually…. Erm, I mean…" she faltered, blushing, and looked away from Theo, who smiled wider at her nervous stuttering.

What was the matter with her? Why had one smile from Theo turned her into a blundering, stammering fool? Though she thought she may know the answer she tried to hide it and pretend she hadn't thought it, while simultaneously trying to prevent the blush now colouring her cheeks from spreading and to force away the goosebumps that had erupted all over her skin as a result of contact with Theo. His hand released her wrist where it fell limply to her side. Aware that she was still staring at the floor, Hermione looked up and tried to form words in spite of Theo's distracting smile.

"Shall we go then?"

With an obliging nod, Theo stepped to her side and they started walking, saying nothing. Hermione couldn't stop thinking about how strange it was to be walking side-by-side with a Slytherin, a Pureblood, like an equal. Like she was a real person. They said nothing for a little while. It was almost refreshing to not have to think of witty retorts to scathing insults constantly, and to just bask in silence, comfortable almost companionable silence.

Come to think of it, thought Hermione sadly, Malfoy was really, shockingly, the only person she talked to nowadays, what with no Harry or Ron to chat to regularly. In fact, what with the underlying depression their absence had caused, Hermione had shut herself off from everyone in just one week: her good friends like Neville and Luna, with whom she had barely spoken since returning to school; her closest friend in school, Ginny, whose idle prattle at mealtimes barely constituted conversation; even from acquaintances she didn't really like, such as Parvati and Lavender, who she used to chat to because they shared a dorm. Now, the only person she had was Malfoy, and that thought was more depressing than having no-one.

Could she maybe end up having Theo to talk to? Could perhaps he and her become friends and talk during patrol, away from Malfoy's contempt, away from the lonely hostility of their dorm? She felt almost guilty just thinking about it and became angry that Malfoy's little speech in the common room was now causing her to feel bad about merely thinking about being friendly with Theo. Why did all her thoughts somehow lead back to that vile ferret? His presence was slowly poisoning her mind, she concluded.

"Is my company really that bad, Granger?" Hermione looked up at Theo, wondering what he was talking about. "You've got a face like someone's trying to feed you Hippogriff dung." Theo looked a little insulted and perhaps… worried?

"Oh!" she laughed. "No, no… I was just… it's Malfoy stuff."

"I see." Theo's face turned from relieved to grave. There was a long pause and Hermione thought she had done something wrong. "Has he been on at you too?" he asked softly after a while. He wasn't looking at her.

"No… well… a little." _Good God,_ thought Hermione. Malfoy's threats had certainly wormed their way into her head if she was reluctant to admit he'd threatened her. How had he managed that? Foul little cockroach. "He said I can't mix with you because you're a Slytherin and a Pureblood and I'm… well, you know what I am." Theo nodded, still not looking at her. "He said that if I spend time with you, you could end up being ostracised from your family and your friends… Being friends with me surely can't do that though?"

"No," said Theo, and Hermione felt relieved. "It's not exactly something people I know will like, but they can deal with it."

"Good." There was another small pause. "But then, what I don't understand is what Malfoy thinks I'm plotting and why I should avoid you. It doesn't make any sense."

She glanced slyly up at him. She had to admit that he was very attractive. He was tall, but not excessively so, and he was well built and muscular; it was obvious even through his robes. He had olive skin, dark hair and dark eyes and wonderful soft-looking, full lips. His jaw was heavy and square, but Hermione liked it and thought it made him look even more handsome. _He was beautiful really,_ she thought. Unfortunately for her, Theo caught her eye while she was gazing admiringly at him. He smirked and she blushed for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past half an hour, looking away.

Once more, there was a long pause and so the pair walked around in comfortable silence, and ended up near the entrance hall. The torches in the brackets lit the corridors with a flickering orange light that danced on the shiny suits of armour that were dotted around. All the people in the portraits on the walls were sleeping, and Hermione herself began to feel a little tired, though it wasn't exactly late. It was a cold night, and a draught swept through the castle, causing her to shiver. Theo noticed.

"Cold?"

"A little," she smiled. With a wave of his wand, he cast a Warming Charm around them and Hermione felt instantly much less chilly. She was pleasantly surprised by his chivalry. It seemed Theo was full of surprises.

"Thank you. How very gentlemanly of you," she smiled.

"Well, I try," Theo chuckled in reply. Hermione was still shocked by how nice Theo was.

"You aren't like most Slytherins, are you?" she blurted out before she could stop herself.

Theo laughed loudly. His laugh made Hermione want to giggle too; it was contagious and heart-warming and genuine.

"No," he smiled, "I suppose I'm not." He seemed to be trying to think of what to say next. "Let's just say I don't really see the point of a lot of their values, like prejudice. It just doesn't make sense to me, not any more. You know, the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Hufflepuff?" He laughed again. "But it put me in Slytherin because I desperately started begging it to put me anywhere but there."

"I can't really see you as a Hufflepuff," Hermione smiled. Making small talk with Theo was oddly easy.

"Well, neither can I. But apparently the Hat could." He pulled a face that made Hermione laugh out loud. Theo began to laugh along with her, and then silence fell again, lasting for quite a long time, but Hermione didn't feel the need to break it. They were still walking, and had encountered no student by the time they entered the Entrance Hall at around half past nine.

"Before, you said you don't know why Draco wants you to avoid me," said Theo suddenly and tentatively, breaking the quiet. "Why he doesn't want you to be around me." Hermione said nothing- she didn't know what to say. Theo grabbed her by the hand, which caught her off guard, so she ended up facing him. They were stood at the bottom of the main staircase now. Hermione was starkly aware of his close proximity and she took a step back. He was looking her right in the eyes.

"You're very pretty Hermione."

There was a five second pause while she took in his words. Theo's eyes, brown and entrancing, stayed locked on hers.

"What?"

"You're very pretty. Enchanting, actually. I first noticed at the Yule Ball in fourth year. I think a lot of people did." Theo chuckled. Hermione's breath came very quickly. She was still quite close to him, too close, but he closed the gap between them even more.

"But it's because I admit that, in spite of our differences in blood status and the rules and what's expected that Draco worries I'll act on it and throw my life away."

Hermione could barely comprehend what was happening. So, did this mean Theo liked her?

"I…" Theo looked as though he was trying to convince himself to do something. He screwed his eyes closed, took a deep breath and opened them again, still clutching her hand tightly.

"I want to act on it, Hermione."

It was as though, if it were possible, electricity was crackling in the air. Hermione because acutely aware of her heartbeat somewhere near her throat and the peculiar absence of her stomach. Theo's eyes were pulling her in tempting her, and he bent his head towards her, tilting it slightly. Before she could talk sense into herself, she had slowly begun moving her head up to meet his, tilting it too. Theo placed his finger and thumb under her chin, pulling her head up more. Incredibly hesitantly, with much stooping and starting and faltering, their faces moved closer together until Theo's lips, soft and gentle, grazed hers with the lightest of touches.

Such a kiss Hermione had never experienced. Not with Viktor and not even her kiss with Ron matched up with the feeling of Theo's lips on hers. She kept her lips pressed against his for what seemed like an impossibly long time, her eyes closed, while she absorbed how incredible it felt to be kissed so tenderly. She felt dizzy and her skin had pricked up. Though it was only an innocent peck, a fire of longing had begun burning inside of her. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him closer and kiss him deeper. Before she could however, Theo pulled away from her. Tentatively, she opened her eyes. Theo was still stood in front of her, smiling, but looking a little nervous.

For the briefest of moments, Hermione smiled, but then she remembered everything: what Draco had said about how a relationship with her would isolate him and cut him off from everyone he loved; who she was kissing and the scandal it would cause if anyone found out; and Ron, her Ron, who she had kissed in the summer (admittedly without this kind of reaction) and who she loved dearly, who she was all but promised to because it had somehow always been the plan, and who she had just betrayed by kissing someone else.

And so Hermione's smile faltered and instead her eyes filled with tears and she was consumed by overwhelming guilt and regret. She backed away looking horrified, her hand pressed to her guilty lips, and Theo's face fell. He stepped forward but she backed away faster.

"Hermione-" he began, but she cut him off.

"I have to go… you can finish the patrol alone can't you…? I… I have t-to…. I have to g-go…" she stuttered as her tears started to fall, and without as much as a look back at Theo, she fled back to her common room.

* * *

><p><strong>And so the love pentagon begins. <strong>


	5. Drunk

**A/N - Thank you so much to all my lovely reviewers :) in answer to one of your questions: yes, at the beginning it may be more Theo/Hermione based, but it is still a Dramione and the storyline will always veer that way. I did mention in the a/n of the first chapter that that would be the case, but just clearing it up again. The reason for a lot of TN/HG is because I intend for this story to be very dragged out but without (hopefully) getting boring. Let's just say, the chapters I have yet to publish aren't very boring ;)**

**In other news, today I got contacts lenses and yesterday I dyed my hair, just in case anybody wanted a little insight into the life of your writer :D Also, if you get the AVPS reference in here you're awesome.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>After receiving two sharp slaps for his troubles, Draco had concluded that the Patil twins didn't want to join him in his bedchamber, and so he had hastily left the corridor outside the Ravenclaw common room where he had found them and returned to his room. Rubbing his red cheeks he shrugged off his robes, slumped on his bed in his boxers and sighed. His head was a total mess.<p>

In normal circumstances, Draco would now be nursing a severely bruised ego and wounded pride from suffering such a rare rejection. Generally, by now he should be feeling a mix of anger, shock and irritation, but also a hunger to find a girl who wouldn't reject him, thus making him feel better; it was a routine, and it was the same routine he'd partaken in on each odd occasion when a girl hadn't wanted him. In fact, given that two girls had refused him, and at the same time, all these feelings should have been magnified- but they weren't. Although Draco was aware that his pride had taken a slight knock and he was a little annoyed, he realised that he was mostly relieved, and bizarrely quite happy that he wouldn't have to emotionlessly go through the motions of sex for the third time that day. While pinpointing these emotions had been difficult, once he had registered them, he knew immediately that they were all down to the new part of himself, the whiny, nagging, ridiculously soppy part of him that had suddenly erupted and craved a girl who he could spend time with and talk to and laugh with. And this stupid bit of his brain had refused to be squashed, compressed, hidden or denied, and it was driving Draco up the wall.

Granger wasn't yet back from patrol and while he was irritated that she was spending time with Theo, Draco was glad that the dorm was empty. He could have a few hours respite now from her stirring up his irritation, and the burden of her presence meaning that he had to constantly come up with new material with which to taunt her. Truth be told, he was beginning to become a bit weary of their constant battle of wits and he'd only been living with her for a little over a week; Draco supposed it was because he had spent more time around her in just the last week than he had in the rest of his school career put together. Still, for habits sake, he had continued to go out of his way to put her down at every opportunity because he refused to let her think that he was going soft and ruin his perfect reputation as an arrogant, Pureblood arse. He shuddered to think of the reactions of his family and friends if they found out he was being relatively pleasant to Hermione Granger, who was not only a Mudblood, but best friends with the Chosen One, Harry freaking Potter. Merlin, Draco hated him.

But then again, without Granger around to annoy, Draco began to feel hopelessly bored and actually a little lonely. While Granger's company was awful, it was at least preferable to no company at all. But now, with nothing else to do, Draco's listless, empty mind began filling with fantasies, as occurred frequently these days; fantasies of Draco nuzzling into a faceless girl's neck, holding her hand, laughing with her, embracing her, tickling her...

… at which point Draco would nearly gag from the soppiness of it all and want to bang his head against a wall. He feared that he was going crazy, cooped up inside his own mind, which at some point soon was bound to explode it's vile, flowery contents in public and humiliate him. There was only one thing for it, Draco concluded, after his brain dipped into fantasy for the fourth time. He needed to see Zabini and to get some sense talked into him, now. It wasn't often he sought advice, but he was absolutely desperate and overwhelmed by horrific new feelings. Now with some purpose, he collected his discarded robes from the floor and shrugged them on over his underwear, then realising that his boxers were clearly visible he put some pants on. Perhaps that's why the Patil twins looked so worried, he pondered.

Shaking his head, he closed the door to his dorm and used a Summoning Charm to find his shoes. He slipped them on and set off for the dungeons, but just as he was exiting the portrait hole he crashed violently into someone hastily trying to enter. It could only be Granger, he thought as he picked himself up of the floor.

"Really Granger, I know your hair is ridiculously bushy, but I didn't realise it obscured your vision. Watch where you're putting your huge feet next time, will you?" he snapped.

He tried to throw her his signature snide smirk of amusement but he was caught off guard when he saw that she was crying. He didn't cope very well with crying females.

"Why are you bawling?" he asked uncomfortably. "You can't have hurt yourself that much when you so stupidly ran into me, surely?"

"Leave me alone, Malfoy," she choked bitterly between sobs. "I'm not in the mood to argue with you."

Then she stormed into her room without looking at him, locked the door and left Draco very confused. He had no idea what had just happened.

Shrugging his shoulders, he set off towards the dungeons, careful not to attract attention to himself as it was a little after seventh year curfew. The magically lit torches were still glowing brightly on the walls and illuminated the way. He tread the familiar path to his old common room stealthily, meeting no-one by the time he had reached the basement and the rough stone wall that hid the entrance to the Slytherin house dormitories.

It took Draco about half a second to realise he didn't know the password and three seconds for him to kick the wall in frustration. He stood dumbly outside the wall for five minutes, exasperatingly trying all the relevant words he could think of, but none were right. He was trying to decide between going back to his room and slowly succumbing to madness or walking all the way to the Owlery so he could send a message to Blaise requesting the password when he was rescued by two boys who looked as though they were in about second year. They were both carrying massive amounts of food in their arms and had clearly just been to the kitchens to steal it when Malfoy spotted them walking towards him. They stopped when they saw his Head Boy badge glinting on his robes and tried to run away but with a mutter of "Petrificus Totalus," they were both frozen before him. He muttered a small threat about all the House Points he would deduct and the spells he would hit them with before unfreezing them and retrieving the password from the mouth of the smaller of the two boys, who was shaking so much with fear that he almost dropped all of his pilfered food. He muttered the password to the wall and hurried past the boys when it slid away to reveal the common room.

Spotting Zabini in his favourite green armchair by the fire, he swaggered over and sank into a nearby armchair. Zabini looked up at him in surprise.

"You have to start keeping me updated with the passwords. I was stood out there for ages before anyone told me what it was." He shot a dark glare at the two second years. "Why are you two up anyway? It's after hours; get lost before I dock points." They scurried off to their dorm with their goods, leaving Zabini and Draco alone. "Where is everyone? It's not that late."

"Oh, Crabbe and Goyle let off a Dungbomb a little while ago so everyone was pretty eager to leave."

"I have no idea why I ever mixed with those two idiots."

"Perhaps because they were tall and brawny and did your bidding without question?"

Draco shot Zabini an irritated look and he smirked. There was a pause. Draco stared into the fire, becoming entranced by its flickering.

"How come you're all on your own then? Where's Daphne?" he asked after a while.

"She went to bed a while ago."

"Oh."

Zabini seemed a little non-responsive, as though he was irritated but Draco didn't want to pry. He couldn't resist himself nosying a little though.

"Are you two going out? Officially I mean? As in, is she your girlfriend?"

He was both genuinely curious and desperate to talk about his own problems.

"I suppose so," replied Zabini. "We've never actually sat down and decided anything but we've been hooking up and hanging out for a few months now, so I suppose that technically makes her my girlfriend."

It wasn't the answer Draco had expected - he had thought Blaise would have known what the situation was with him and Daphne. He was making it sound very complicated, and Draco was sure, though he had no experience of real relationships, that they were quite straightforward.

"What's that like?" he asked. He actually wanted to know. "Is it nice to spend time with her outside of your bedroom?"

Zabini thought for a moment. "Yeah, it is actually. I always thought that jumping into bed with a girl was great because you were literally skipping ahead to the best part of a date but with Daphne... if you spend a few minutes with her, you realise that she's actually really funny. She's witty, she's clever, and she's really kind and affectionate as well. And I always used to tease her and pick on her about how she was going to end up marrying some vile old Pureblood man that her mother had picked out and when we actually got to talking she told me that was one of her genuine fears and I'd scared the shit out of her. That was today, in fact, hence the mood. I feel bad for being such a callous git to her. But there's this whole other side to her that I didn't know existed, a nice side that she hides when she's being a bitch to Pansy and everyone else. I mean... the sex with her is still great and I love that part of it too. I love knowing that I'm the only one who can touch her like that, or make her feel like that. But knowing that afterwards you can talk about your feelings or your worries and stuff is pretty cool. She's the one thing in my life right now that's totally secure and unfaltering. She's always around when I need her and she makes time for me... and the only thing I have to do in return is make time for her, and I don't mind that. So yeah, it's very nice,"

Zabini concluded his little speech with a small smile, a real smile, not his arrogant, teasing smirk. Draco was staring at him, open mouthed. Everything Zabini had described had sounded very appealing to Draco. Security and affection were things he craved because he'd never really got them from his family- not from Lucius anyway. He suddenly realised that there was no point squashing the part of him that wanted all of those things because it was never going to go away. He wanted what Zabini had for himself. Learning to accept his newfound view on relationships would be hard but it would have to be done.

"But why do you want to know, Draco? I don't think you asked because you want to keep up to date with my life. What's your motive?"

Blaise could read Draco so well that he simply stared at the fire and waited for him to figure it out himself. It didn't take long.

"Unless..." he grinned deviously, "...unless the great Draco Malfoy, womanizer extraordinaire, is getting tired of randomly sleeping with girls and actually wants to commit to a relationship?"

Draco hung his head. Zabini burst out laughing.

"Bloody hell, it's true, isn't it?" He was still laughing raucously.

"Look, I know it's mental, ok? You don't need to be so ridiculous about it," he muttered sullenly.

"Ok, I apologise, I'm sorry," said Zabini, curbing his laughter and trying to keep a straight face. "But why have you suddenly gone all deep and meaningful on me?"

"I don't know..." he said hesitantly. He was beginning to regret coming to talk to Blaise; he should have known he'd handle it like this. "It's just... hearing you talk about Daphne - you, of all people- like you just did make me want all that stuff. Everything. It's been on my mind since you first mentioned that you might be serious about her in the Great Hall on Friday. But in one little weekend my perspective has changed entirely and it made me rethink what was going on with me and Pansy. I genuinely have no idea what was happening with us- we were just friends who had sex occasionally, but I think I always knew she wanted more. So I sort of... broke our thing off. And then when I started thinking about all this stupid stuff, about wanting a relationship, I didn't know what to do, so for the past few days I've been sleeping with a steady stream of girls because I wanted to convince myself that I was the same old me who only wanted sex. It hasn't helped; in fact it's made me want to change even more, and that's fucked with my head too. Sex used to solve everything. I don't know what's happening to me."

Exasperated, Draco leant backwards in his chair with a sigh and saw that Zabini actually looked quite serious.

"Well, well, well, Draco. It seems you've finally matured. It took you long enough."

"What? So you're saying that it's a good thing that I've suddenly lost all sense of self and gone soft?" He snorted. "Don't fuck with me Blaise."

"Nice language from Mr Softie," Zabini mocked. "But what I mean is that there was bound to come a point when even for you, sex was no longer enough. However, I must say it's come a little earlier than I thought it would; I thought you'd only have this particular epiphany when you hit about thirty." He laughed when Draco gave him the finger.

"Lighten up! Here," he said, using his wand to Summon a large bottle of Firewhiskey and to conjure up two glasses. "Let's have a little toast," he said as he poured them both a generous measure. "To the new mature Draco Malfoy; here's hoping you can find a girl willing to put up with your arrogance, foul temper, mood swings and irritating mannerisms for long enough to become your girlfriend."

As Draco scowled and Zabini smiled playfully, they chinked glasses and gulped back the amber liquid, which burned Draco's throat like flames and filled him up with a warm glow. He spluttered a little and Zabini questioned his ability to handle alcohol, to which Draco replied that he was perfectly able to hold his liquor, prompting Zabini to pour them a second measure each, which they both drank. Draco felt it burning through him again, but this time is was rather pleasant, and so he didn't cough. He began playing with his empty glass, tossing it from side to side. He saw Blaise pour himself yet another glass of the Firewhiskey with amazement.

"Steady on Zabini. We do have lessons tomorrow you know."

"The prospect of which makes me desperate for another drink; I don't want to think about N.E.W.T.'s ever again." He pulled a face.

"We've only been back at school for one week."

"And? One week was enough for me to hear on no less than five occasions that we have 'the most important tests of our lives' at the end of this year. I have already heard enough about them and how our careers rely on them, and I don't want to do them. I just won't have a career; I'll live off my mother's fortune forever."

"You have such big dreams, it's inspiring," Draco chuckled. He then grew serious again. "There was another thing I wanted to talk about though."

"Oh?"

"It's about Granger."

Zabini's eyes widened. "Do tell."

Draco was just trying to find the words to explain how angry Granger was making him and her situation with Theo when he heard fast, heavy footsteps from behind him. Before he knew what was happening, he had been hoisted roughly from his chair and had had his glass knocked out of his hand. He heard it smash on the floor. He was being held by a fistful of his robes with a wand pointed at his face by Theo. He looked incredibly angry, more angry than Draco had ever seen him. He felt quite worried.

"What have you said to Hermione?" he demanded, his face twisted with rage.

Draco tried to keep his usual calm manner. "I've said a lot of things to Granger; we live together in case you hadn't noticed."

Theo shook him. "What did you say to her about me?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Never mind why I want to know!" Theo yelled, shaking Draco some more and inching his wand closer to Draco's face, who was getting genuinely concerned that Theo would hex him. "Just tell me what you said to her!"

With a sigh, Draco complied. "I simply told her the truth. I told her that a friendship or anything more with you would ruin your life and cut you off from everyone you know, and that if she made a move on you she should have that on her conscience." Theo screwed up his face and shook his head in disgust. "I also threatened her and told her to stay away from you, but obviously she hasn't. That's it. That's all I told her. The truth."

"_Why_? Why stick your nose in when you don't need to? Who cares if being around her fucks up my life? It's my decision! You had no right to threaten her. Just... just stay out of my life, Malfoy. And leave Hermione alone. If I find out you've threatened her again I will hunt you down and curse you into oblivion." He released Draco; his wand, however, was still pointing ominously at his head.

"What's got you so worked up?" he asked angrily.

"_You!_ You've ruined my evening! Because of your meddling, Hermione just ran off in tears, literally seconds after I kissed her!"

"You kissed her?" asked Draco incredulously.

That explained her crying when they had met at the portrait hole. Now he was incredibly angry too. Zabini was watching the exchange in awed amusement. Draco heard him pour another glass of Firewhiskey and sit back in his chair.

"Yes, Malfoy, I kissed her. And she actually seemed to like it until she burst into tears and ran off, which was probably because she thinks she's messed up my life, all thanks to what you told her."

"Theo, you're throwing everything away for Granger! You barely even know her so why are you so angry?"

"Because you've ruined my chances before I even had the opportunity to get to know her, all because you think you're doing what's best for me. Why can't you just accept that I don't need you to look after me? I can do what I like!"

Draco was livid. "I'm trying to stop you making a massive mistake-"

"I don't care! If it is a mistake, it's my mistake to make! Stay away from me, Malfoy. You don't have to feel the need to 'protect me' as your friend anymore because we aren't friends."

Theo stormed out of the common room angrily and Draco sat back down.

"_Reparo_," he muttered, and his glass sprang back together. He seized the bottle of Firewhiskey from Zabini and filled his glass to the brim, gulping it down as though it was tap water. Pouring another, he ran his hands through his hair.

"What the hell just happened then?" asked Zabini, his eyes wide and a half smirk playing around his wide open mouth.

"That was the second thing I wanted to talk to you about." Draco swallowed another glass. The fiery burn in his throat was starting to become comforting. "Theo has a bit of a thing for Granger. And she and him both completely fail to see the impact that she'll have on his life. I'm looking out for him. Plus, she's making me crazy and angry all the time in our dorm."

"Well," said Zabini after a pause, "to each their own I suppose." He had abandoned his glass and was now drinking directly from the bottle.

Draco stared at him for a second in shock. "You aren't angry about all this?" he asked disbelievingly. "Theo fancying that irritating Mudblood? I thought you of all people would be annoyed by it."

"It's none of my business," said Zabini curtly. His speech was becoming slightly slurred. "And to be honest Draco, I can see Theo's point, because its none of yours either. You're being a bit of a prick about his whole thing really."

Draco stared at him open-mouthed.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to encourage it, and I wouldn't touch her with a ten foot broomstick, but if it's what he wants let him have it. Whatever makes him happy."

Zabini sat, staring at the fire, and gulped down some more alcohol (quite a bit of which trickled out of the neck of the bottle and onto him), oblivious to Draco's unhappy disbelief.

"Am I the only person around here who can see sense?" he demanded, more to himself than Blaise. "You mark my words, this will not end well for either of them. Theo says he doesn't care what his dad thinks but he does really. I'm right, you know I am." He wanted another drink but he couldn't prise the bottle from Zabini's hands.

"Regardless of whether you're right or not, it isn't for you to mess around in his love life." He held up a hand when Draco tried to reply. "Leave it for now. Come on, finish this last bit with me," he said, shaking the bottle in his hands.

He poured the leftover whiskey between the two glasses and they raised them to each other before throwing the burning liquid into their mouths. Draco was beginning to feel a little lightheaded from drinking so much so quickly. He stared into the fire, overcome with sudden tiredness. Both were silent for a long time. Draco was beginning to think that he should probably get back to his room and go to sleep when Blaise spoke.

"You have to admit, though, you can see why Theo's interested in her." Draco stared at him, confused. "Granger is pretty hot." After a couple of seconds Draco started laughing.

"I think all the alcohol has gone to your head and made you stupid."

"No, come on Draco, even you have to admit that Granger is very, very attractive. Yes, she's a Mudblood, but she's really hot. Come on, admit it!" He punched Draco on the arm.

"You're drunk."

"So what if I am? Admit it!" He was punching Draco quite hard now.

"Fine! Granger is... not totally off-putting. But I still wouldn't shag her. Happy?" Zabini laughed at him then hiccupped loudly. "I think you should go to bed, Blaise." Zabini stood up and started swaying.

"Fair point... Oh Merlin, there is no way I'll be able to make it into Charms tomorrow morning."

Draco laughed. "I told you so! Need help getting to your dorm?" he mocked.

"Nahh, I'll be fine."

"Alright then, I'm off," said Draco, standing up. All the blood rushed to his head and he nearly fell over. He grabbed onto the back of his armchair for balance. Perhaps he was a little drunk too.

"Night," he called to Zabini, who was staggering to his room.

"Goodnight!" he yelled loudly back. Draco heard him fall over and start snoring just before he left.

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><p><strong>Apologies for slight lack of events in this part; I would have posted the next episode within it but then it would have been 7000 words long and I'm trying to keep all the Chapters the same length. As a consolation, I shall post the next chapter sooner than I would normally do. <strong>

**Reviews make the new blonde me happy. **


	6. Debts

**A/N: Wotcher, its your favourite (hopefully) writer, once more uploading ;)  
>In my life: I got sent home from school on Tuesday for exhaustion, and consequently I haven't written any more LB since about last week, but luckily for you, what I publish is very far behind what I actually have written. I do plan to write some more tonight, hopefully a very momentous part of the plot... I'M EXCITED ALREADY... is that sad?<br>**

**Thank you to my only reviewer of the last chapter, you made my day... I know I'm begging for reviews but I really do enjoy reading them- it lets me know who enjoys my story and what they like about it. I also have the anonymous reviews function enabled so you don't even have to have an account to review :)  
>Enough of me being desperate for feedback, enjoy the next chapter. <strong>

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><p>Her head was pounding, her throat was raw and her eyes stung painfully, but still Hermione was crying. Her face was buried in her pillow, which was wet with her tears, and she was sobbing bitterly. She felt awful; she felt like the worst person and the worst friend in the world. What would Ron think if he knew what she had done? She had kissed Theo- no, she corrected herself, Theo had kissed her - but she had let him. Stupidly, she had done the very thing that she had told herself she ought not to do, the very thing she had decided was the worst case scenario.<p>

She couldn't believe what she had so callously done- she had betrayed Ron in the worst possible way. Weeping even more angrily, she turned on her side and hunched up into a ball with her head in her hands. If only she had someone to talk to; if only she had someone who could give her some perspective or cheer her up, like Harry would have done... He would have been surprised and angry at Hermione for kissing a Slytherin but at least he'd have eventually seen what Hermione was going through and comforted her. Now, added to the overwhelming guilt, she'd opened up the missing part of her she'd managed to lock away for a while and she felt the dull, gnawing ache she associated with missing the boys. She groaned. Her head was pounding from all the tears.

There was no way she could go to Ginny though. She was Ron's sister so there was no way she'd be able to be objective; she'd only be (understandably) angry at her. Wiping tears off her cheeks, Hermione shook herself. She was stronger than this; she needed to get a grip. There was nothing she could do now, it was done, and so crying about it wasn't going to help. However, she still felt that she needed to talk about it to someone and so with sudden clarity and no hesitation, she found a spare bit of parchment, quill and ink, and still snuffling, she composed a letter to Fred and George: they were mature enough to give her genuinely good advice; they understood how much of a prat Ron was at times and so they would be able to sympathise with Hermione's situation (she hoped); and if the twins couldn't cheer her up she didn't know who could.

By the time it was done, parts of it were blotchy where stray tears had fallen and smudged the ink and so she restored it with her wand and read it back to herself.

_Fred and George, _

_I'm going to jump straight into it- I need your advice. I'm in the middle of a dilemma, to say the least, and I couldn't think of anyone else to talk to. It's sort of about Ron, so I can't really talk to Ginny. You both know what an idiot he is sometimes, so I thought you might be able to give me some advice and help me gain some much needed optimism. _

_There's a Hogsmeade trip at the end of October, on Hallowe'en. Could you meet me in the village so we can have a catch-up? _

_Hermione. _

It was a little melodramatic and cryptic, she had to admit, but it got her point across and had the right sense of urgency. She still felt terrible but at least she now had the hope of being able to let out her emotions to someone in the relatively near future. Not wanting to waste time, she decided to take an evening trip to the Owlery. Strictly speaking, it was against the rules because it was after hours but she decided that if she met anyone she would simply tell them she was on patrol.

Walking out into the common room she noticed that Malfoy's door was open and his room appeared empty; he wasn't back yet and she found herself thinking (quite hypocritically) that he was an idiot for staying out after hours. She wondered where he was but less than a minute later she found out when she crashed into him for the second time that night as she tried to leave. She fell forwards and landed on top of him. While his body was hard and manly and warm and oddly nice, he stank of alcohol, and he was Malfoy, and so she hastily scrambled off him, awaiting his inevitable insult regarding her clumsiness.

"Fuck me, Granger, I'm beginning to think you're doing this on purpose," he mumbled as he struggled to his feet. "It seems this is becoming a rather annoying habit of yours."

Hermione noticed he seemed to be very unsteady on his feet.

"You're drunk!" she gasped, appalled.

"So? What's it to you?" he asked sullenly.

"You can't be drunk, Malfoy, its not allowed! And you're Head Boy. And it's a school-night!" she hissed. "You're breaking so many rules!"

Hermione didn't know why she was concerned- at least if Malfoy was sacked she wouldn't have to put up with him daily. She supposed it was just her reflex to be worried about anyone breaking rules.

"Oh, piss off Granger," he muttered angrily. He stumbled his way through the portrait hole while Hermione stared disapprovingly.

"You know what though?" he called to her as he was staggering to his room. "I think that maybe... actually... Zabini might have been right."

Hermione was confused. "Right about what?"

Malfoy didn't reply and she saw him fall into his room.

"Right about what?" she asked again. She thought that he mustn't be answering her to irritate her.

"About what he said about you just now. I didn't want to admit it, but," he said in a sing-song voice, "…he was right!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"It's probably best that you don't. Oh, fucking hell!" he yelled.

She heard a thump from his room and deduced that he had fallen over. For a second she wondered if he was ok but then asked herself, bemused, why she even cared. She left him to it and continued her trip to the Owlery. She was quite frustrated. The fact that Zabini had said something about her -something, which apparently, Malfoy agreed with- was annoying her, especially as she didn't know exactly what he'd said. But trying to fathom out what it was had at least taken her mind off feeling guilty for a while. However, inevitably, a couple of minutes later she gave up her guesswork and remembered why she was walking to the Owlery anyway- to deliver a letter than would make her feel better about how much of a bitch she'd been.

She made slow progress because she was nervous about being caught out of bed by a teacher; stalking the halls and corridors of the school without the security of Harry's Invisibility Cloak was terrifying. She knew that she did have a reasonably plausible excuse but it didn't stop her from feeling quite worried. Staircases were the worst; there was nowhere for her to run to if a teacher suddenly rounded the corner. She was almost there when she had a close call. Filch was muttering from a classroom a little in front of her. His voice carried across the silent space and she knew from experience that he didn't cope well with students being out of bed. She hastily ducked into the nearby girls' bathroom and waited for him to pass. Around five minutes later, when she was sure he was gone, she was about to cautiously leave again when she heard quite sniffles from a stall to her left. It wasn't Moaning Myrtle's bathroom so Hermione concluded that it couldn't be her. She called out quietly.

"Hello? Are you okay?"

"Get lost Granger!" came the reply.

Hermione recognised it as coming from Pansy Parkinson. She grimaced.

"What are you doing out of bed after hours? Get back to your dorm or I'll report you to Professor Slughorn."

"Says you! Why are you out of bed? And why should I listen to you?" She sounded quite nasal, like she'd been crying.

"I'm doing my patrol," she lied uneasily. "And because I'm Head Girl! You can either go back to your room now or I can report you to your Head of House and recommend he take points from Slytherin. It's your choice."

She heard the door of Pansy's stall unlock. Without another word, she swept past her and out of the bathroom. Her face was red and her eyes were as swollen and puffy as Hermione's.

Wondering what had got her so upset and who she should congratulate for the deed, Hermione hastily left the bathroom and walked the rest of the way to the Owlery without meeting anyone.

The room was cold, as usual, and Hermione shivered through her thin clothes. Careful not to slip on the dropping coated floor, she walked over to a wall where owls that had returned from hunting or had not yet gone were waiting. She coaxed a Hogwarts owl down from its perch, tied the letter to its leg and released it, watching it soar off into the dark, cloudy sky. After watching it until it became invisible in the inky darkness of the night she started her sneaky journey back to her room, keeping a wary eye out for teachers or Filch. At one point she heard Peeves cackling away to himself from somewhere close to her but thankfully she didn't encounter him, nor did she come across Filch again. In fact, she saw no-one as she cautiously made her way through the castle and back down to the fourth floor. By the time she was relatively near to the dorm she was sure she wouldn't meet anyone and so she let out a premature sigh of relief; her breathe caught in her throat once more when she turned the last corner to find Theo, obviously waiting for her, leaning on the portrait of the lion and the snake. She stopped in her tracks and gasped, and at the sound of her shuffling feet, Theo looked up and saw her. Her mind went blank, her stomach twisted up into knots and she was nearly sick. Through tear-clouded eyes she saw Theo start forwards and open his mouth.

Panicking, Hermione grabbed her wand from her pocket and pointed it at Theo, who flinched, and whispered: "_Muffliato_." He looked confused as Hermione knew that all he would be able to hear would be an indeterminable buzzing. She hurried to the portrait hole and whispered the password, lifting the curse as she stepped into her common room. Before she could push the portrait shut behind her Theo jammed his foot in the gap. Hermione heard the snake in the portrait hiss angrily.

"Hermione please, I need to talk to you... I'm sorry... I've been looking all over the castle for you-"

"Theo, I can't talk to you about this right now... I need you to go away, please," she begged desperately when Theo's face accompanied his foot in the gap.

"I know you're upset, please, just let me apologise. Hermione, I'm so sorry." He looked very upset.

"Stop apologising. This is all my fault, I should have listened to Malfoy, he was right. I shouldn't have patrolled with you," she said tearfully.

"So what if he's right? I don't care about what my dad or anyone will think. I don't care! Does that help? Please don't be upset." His voice was soft but still desperate.

"A little," she admitted. "But it isn't just that, Theo, it's- it's complicated. I shouldn't have let you kiss me because I... I kissed someone else in the summer and I think we're sort of... together," she said truthfully. Theo seemed hurt and a little disappointed.

"Which one was it?"

"What?" She wanted him to go but she would feel awful about kicking him out when he was so visibly upset.

"Potter or Weasley? Which one?" Hermione was stunned by how astute he was. "You spend all of your time with them, it has to be one of them."

"Ron," she replied after a while.

Theo looked away from her. There was a small silence.

"Hermione... he isn't here." Theo's voice was pleading.

"I can't. I'm not like that, I can't do that to him. Not until I find out what my situation is with him. I couldn't lie to him. It'd eat me up inside." Theo tried to interrupt. "Please, Theo, just... don't. Go. I know you're sorry, and I forgive you, but I can't see you for a while. I need to straighten things out and I won't be able to do that until the end of October at least. If you still want to be around me then, then I suppose when can try and be friends, but if not then fine."

Swallowing, Theo nodded grimly. He looked crushed. But thankfully, he was retracting his foot... finally, Hermione could go to bed...

"Look... I'm sorry for putting you through this. You're obviously feeling bad but you shouldn't. I kissed you, not the other way round, so remember that. And I'm sorry for being so... I don't know... desperate just now. It's just, even though we've not known each other very long, I've- I've begun to like you more than I'd care to admit." He removed his foot and under Hermione's weight the portrait finally swung shut.

She stood for a second with her head rested on its cool wooden back, trying to will her stomach into untwisting. Sighing, she decided that she really would have to avoid him completely until she got some advice from the twins. It would have been so much easier if she could simply owl Ron and ask him if he was her boyfriend and what their situation was, but they had decided that it would be safest if they didn't contact each other. It couldn't be helped, so staying away from Theo was the only option. But suddenly, she realised that she would still have to do bi-weekly patrols with him and she could have punched something. Why was nothing ever simple? It was just one thing after another and it was very tiring. Weighing up her options, Hermione decided she had only two and so she chose self-preservation and the lesser of two evils. Decisively, she marched into Malfoy's room. Hermione was a little taken aback to find him lying on his back on the floor and massaging his face. She was also shocked to hear him giggling to himself in a most un-Malfoyish way. The explanation for this came when she spotted an almost empty bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey sitting abandoned on the floor next to him, along with his wand.

"Merlin's beard, Malfoy, what have you done now?"

"I had... an eenie-weenie little nightcap," he slurred.

Hermione was leaning over him. His breath could have knocked out a dragon. Not knowing what else to do, she seized him by the waist and pulled him up. He was still giggling.

"I have no idea why I'm doing this, and you'll probably go mad at me tomorrow," she panted, "but never mind."

She mentally cursed herself for being so nice and pushed Malfoy face-first onto his bed. He groaned and rolled himself onto his back.

"Shit."

Hermione looked at him disapprovingly. She placed his wand on his bedside table and transfiguring his whiskey bottle into a mug ,she transformed the whiskey left in it into steaming black coffee. As an extra precaution she cast a Sobering Charm on it before handing it to Malfoy. Standing awkwardly next to his bed as she he drank it, he eyed her suspiciously. She needed to ask him something and she had hoped that helping him into bed (and to an extent his inebriation) would work to her advantage.

"That should help sober you up a little... but to be honest you're so drunk I doubt it will have much effect."

"Bloody hell, Mudblood," he said. "Why are you being so horrifically nice to me?" He hiccupped and spilled coffee on himself which he wiped off on his bed sheets.

"I need a favour."

Malfoy pulled a face.

"What exactly do you want?" The coffee seemed to be having an effect already as he seemed more sober.

"Something has happened which has made it impossible for me to continue to do rounds with Theo-"

"I know all about that," he muttered darkly.

Hermione glared at him.

"How do you know what happened?" she asked irritably.

"Theo told me when he held me at wandpoint and yelled at me for threatening you," he said casually, noisily sipping some more coffee.

"Oh. Well then you'll understand why I'm feeling terrible and why I have to stay away from him."

"I suppose. I also know that I told you what might happen days ago but you didn't listen to me. But at least you can see sense now."

Hermione didn't appreciate his tone but said nothing because she couldn't afford to make him mad at her.

"Right. So in that case here's what I need from you... I need you to switch patrols so that I do them with you and he does them with Lavender."

She waited for him to object but to her complete surprise he nodded.

"Fine. I'd rather not patrol with you, but if it'll keep you away from Theo then I can cope with spending a little more time in your sorry company. At the very least I'll be shot of that annoying bimbo. I hate her almost as much as I hate you."

He smirked at her and Hermione bit back an angry remark. She was at least happy that he was being relatively ok about the unfortunate situation. She nodded, thanked Malfoy and walked towards the door. From behind her she was most annoyed to hear Malfoy casting not-so-subtle "Scourgify" charms on everything she had touched. Shaking her head, she was about to slam his door shut in distaste when he stopped casting spells and addressed her.

"You do realise though, Granger, that you owe me for this?"

She looked back at him. He was grinning sadistically at her over his mug.

"What exactly do I owe you?" she asked angrily, though inside she began to feel worried about how embarrassing, mentally scarring or degrading the task he had planned could be.

"I don't know yet," he smirked. "But you do owe me." His grin grew. He really was enjoying himself, the loathsome pig.

"Fine," she snapped, banging his door shut and leaving him to sleep off his drunkenness.


	7. Notes

**A/N - Wotcher my lovelies, here's another little update for y'all.**

**_In news_: I went to my doctors complaining of trouble sleeping and so I'm currently banned from caffeine after 5pm, which is horrific because I do all my best writing at night when I'm basically running on caffeine supplied from a steady stream of tea... Whatever will I do? :( On the plus side, a mountain of GCSE coursework has just been completed for several different subjects and it's half term, so I have plenty of time to write reams of glorious Dramione for you... I may even treat you to an extra mid-week update if I'm feeling kind. **

**Also, one review I recieved this week on Chapter four pointed out that my paragraphing was terrible and I'm hoping they were referring to the fact that Chapters 3-6 were formatted stupidly (sorry) and not my paragraphing skills- it seems that my breaks between the paragraphs weren't terribly obvious so everything was kind of smushed into one... my bad. It won't happen again and I've fixed it now. **

**Thank you to all my reviewers; as always, I heartily appreciate them. Feel free to review this chapter too, and so I'm sorry for this essay of an A/N... ENJOY. **

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><p>The autumn sun was beaming gloriously through his window, the sky was a clear, crystal blue, birds were chirping happily in the golden trees outside… but all Draco felt like doing was shooting hexes at everything. From the second he had awoke, unwelcome waves of nausea had washed over him and coupled with his dry mouth and pounding head, Draco was sure that he was dying. He groaned as he rolled over and a shaft of sunlight hit him directly in his currently very sensitive eyes and he cursed himself in hindsight for not having the brains to have closed the curtains before he went to bed. For a second, he found himself thinking that his newfound hatred of sunlight made him sympathise with vampires… but before he could even finish his thought he had rolled over even further, almost off his bed, and vomited onto his floor.<p>

While the coffee laced with the sobering charm that Granger had given him last night had perked him up, it appeared that it had no effect on hangovers, which was incredibly stupid, Draco thought as he retched. He knew that there was no way he'd be able to make it into morning classes, not in his current state. However, he supposed he had better try to put in an appearance in the afternoon in case teachers started asking Granger too many questions and she told them how many rules he had broken last night.

He spent the morning in the bathroom, alternating between having his head in the toilet while he heaved and refilling his glass of water, forcing liquid into his body to make up for how much he was losing. He had never had a hangover as bad as this one before; he could barely remember what had happened last night. He remembered clearly what had happened with Theo in the Slytherin common room, but everything else was a little confusing… and then all of a sudden he recalled something that made him feel sick, and thanks to his weak stomach he threw up yet again.

He vaguely remembered Blaise drunkenly admitting that he thought that Granger was attractive, but he also recollected how he had been quite tipsy when he had stumbled back to the common room and bumped into Granger herself... and Merlin… he hadn't had he? Had he really admitted to her that he secretly agreed with Blaise? At least, he assured himself, she hadn't the foggiest idea about what he had claimed to agree with, but still… _Did_ he think Granger was attractive? He supposed that a drunken mind was often a truthful one, but then again this was _Granger _he was talking about, the Mudblood he had hated for years, and perhaps his brain had just been affected by one too many glasses of Firewhiskey (which, he told himself sternly, he would never drink again.). He shook his head, as though trying to drive his thoughts out of it. Of course he didn't think Granger was pretty. She was foul, hideous, awful… But if he hadn't meant it then why had he said it in the first place? He decided the best thing to do would be to forget he had ever said anything. Luckily for him, all his worries were driven from his head by another particularly nasty onslaught of queasiness.

By the time it had just gone twelve, Draco had finally stopped vomiting and was able to straighten himself up, clean his teeth vigorously, tentatively leave the bathroom and roll back into his bed for an hour. Just before he closed his eyes he reached into his bedside cabinet and withdrew a small vial of red potion that he kept to help ease particularly nasty hangovers and downed the contents quickly. When he awoke he felt much better, as aided by the potion the alcohol finally left his system, and he reminded himself to replenish his stock of it on the next trip to Hogsmeade. After Scourgifying his bedroom and the bathroom of all traces of his illness, he took a quick shower then made himself look presentable. He pulled on his school robes and decided to show his face in lessons. He was too late for lunch –which he wasn't too bothered about as the thought of being surrounded by food made him want to start being sick all over again- but he was just in time for double Potions, his last lessons of the day.

Draco ambled slowly towards the dungeons, aware that this lesson was his final lesson on his Veritaserum, which awaited him and was still very pink. Not particularly eager to attempt to fix it, he didn't hurry, and so he only arrived at the dungeons halfway through his first hour of Potions. No-one initially noticed his sudden appearance because everyone was busy around their cauldrons, but after a few seconds Professor Slughorn noticed Draco standing awkwardly in the doorway.

"Ahh, Mr Malfoy! So glad you could join us- feeling better I trust?"

Draco stood still, slightly confused. How had Slughorn known he hadn't been well? Had that bloody Granger told a Professor about his drinking?

"Miss Granger informed me that you had a particularly nasty cold and you wouldn't be in lessons all day. Er… why _are_ you in lessons?"

Draco glanced at Granger who was staring resolutely away from him, and he could see that her cheeks had turned slightly red.

"Oh, I asked Madam Pomfrey to give me some Pepperup Potion so I'm feeling much better now."

"Excellent!" beamed Slughorn, accepting Draco's excuse without question. "Well, you have the rest of this lesson to complete your Veritaserum before I'll mark it at its current stage, and then you have to let it brew for a full lunar cycle… Just find your cauldron and start. If you wish I can allow you to stay behind for an extra half an hour afterwards so you have the same time as everyone else?"

Draco nodded and sat down behind his cauldron, lighting a fire underneath it, and then he took out his potions supplies.

He had absolutely had no idea why Granger had given him an alibi; if it had been the other way round he'd have jumped at the chance to get her into trouble. It was so confusing- it was another one of those stupid things Granger did to get on his nerves. After adding some ingredients to his brewing potion, he pulled out a quill, ink and some parchment and hastily scribbled down a quick note.

_What's your deal? Why did you cover for me?_

He tapped the parchment with his wand and it folded itself into a birdlike shape before gliding across the room and coming to a halt at Granger's desk. He watched with one eye as she stared at the note with apparent confusion and then glanced around the room, searching for its sender. When she cautiously opened it he saw comprehension dawn on her face and her mouth turn into a perfect little 'O' shape. Hastily, she scribbled something down, looked nervously around for Slughorn (who was bent over Ernie Macmillan's cauldron) and then sent the note back to Draco. He snatched it out of the air and unfolded it.

_You said I owed you for swapping patrol partners. Now we're even. _

He chuckled to himself and Granger must have heard him because she whipped her head around and gave him a withering stare.

_On the contrary Granger- I never asked you to cover for me, therefore it doesn't count and you still owe me. _

He smirked as he sent the note her way once more and smothered a hearty laugh when she read the note and she shot him a glare before tearing it up in frustration.

He returned to his potion, which seemed to have sorted itself out, as it was now a vivid turquoise and was paling rapidly. Draco was staring off into space whilst stirring his potion when he noticed that Blaise was absent. Once more, Draco had to stifle laughter as he thought of how he had fallen over last night and the state he was likely to be in now- certainly much worse than Draco had been. However he also noticed with unease that Theo was no longer working at a desk near the one Draco shared with Blaise as he usually did- he was instead sat near the front, alone as usual, with his back to Draco, and was stirring his potion with a look of intense concentration on his face. However, he couldn't fail to notice how Theo kept absentmindedly stealing glances at Granger every few minutes which caused flickerings of anger within Draco, though he had no idea why. He forced himself to focus solely on his Veritaserum which was, at last, turning crystal clear.

At end of the lesson, Slughorn announced that he would be marking their potion in its current state and would review it again in twenty-eight days, when it had fully brewed. Draco watched jealously as his classmates left, leaving him alone with just his cauldron for company; Slughorn had left also, telling Draco he had important business to attend to, although he had a sneaking suspicion that this 'business' of the Professor's was likely centred around a pint of mead. As the Professor hurried out of the room, Draco had turned his attention to his potion.

He had to stir it clockwise exactly one hundred times and it was boring, monotonous work, and so he ended up wondering why he'd felt angry when he'd seen Theo glancing at Hermione. He tried to convince himself that it was because Theo lusting after a Mudblood wasn't acceptable, but something inside of him told him that wasn't quite right. Even if it was, why should Draco have to concern himself with Theo's affairs? Theo had made it perfectly clear that he wanted to bugger up his life and didn't want Draco to prevent him, so he should just step back and bow out gracefully; he thought though it would be easier said than done. Why had he been concerned in the first place? Because of Granger's blood? If it had been any other girl he wouldn't have had to jump into Theo's business on principle and they'd still be on speaking terms. Like most things in his life, he blamed it on his father, and the way Lucius had brought him up.

It was Lucius' fault, because of his failures, that Draco had last year been landed with the impossible task of killing Dumbledore, which had led to the death of his mentor, Severus Snape. It was Lucius' fault that he and his mother now had to hide away from the vengeance of the Dark Lord while his father still grovelled and blindly followed his orders. It was Lucius' fault that he was now confined to the boundaries of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade and his mother was hidden somewhere he didn't know the location of in an Order safe-house. It was Lucius' fault that she was now a wreck, a shadow of her former self, and it was his fault that Draco hadn't seen her since he had left for Hogwarts, and was not allowed to contact her. It was also Lucius' fault that Draco had been dragged into the whole sorry mess that was the Second Wizarding War, and had been placed by default on the "bad" side, because of all the prejudices Lucius had taught him to accept, and now they had caused him to lose Theo. Lucius had spent his entire life indoctrinating his beliefs within Draco, from the day he had been born. He could pin every single flaw in his life on his father somehow and it was something he did often to make himself feel better; Lucius had warped Draco and had turned him into a similarly twisted, cynical and prejudiced younger version of himself.

Now he came to think about it, Draco found that he could better understand how Theo felt about _his_ father- Mr Nott had had a very drastic effect on the way Theo had lived his life and what choices he had been allowed to make, and Draco could certainly relate. Ever since Draco had been a boy, he had been a sponge for all of his father's beliefs; he had been forced to believe what his father believed without justification or reason or risk being disowned by his family and his friends. Then again perhaps that would have been a blessing in disguise, as apart from Narcissa, Draco had grown up in an entirely loveless household, and the fact that he had been starved of affection had probably damaged him more than he knew. His childhood had not been a happy one.

While he knew deep down that his mother loved him, she had never been able to show him very much. She had tried to protect him, comfort him, love him, but Lucius' word had always been final in their household. Draco was not to cry, he was not to become overly emotional, he was to pledge his allegiance to the Dark Lord and be done with it. Narcissa had begged and pleaded with Lucius not to allow Draco to become embroiled in the Dark Lord's circle; she had wept, but it had been of no use. The night Draco had been given the task of killing Dumbledore, she had crept into his room while he was sleeping, woken him, held him like she had when he was a small boy, and stroked his head soothingly while he had cried. He wasn't particularly proud that he had done it, but then again, that was probably because Lucius didn't approve of tears. His mother had rocked him slowly while she too had sobbed, confessing that she felt she had already lost one of the men in her life to darkness and she did not wish to lose the other. It had been from that day onwards when Draco had become aware of the hollow, dead look in his father's eyes, and had decided that his father did not love him or his mother anymore. And yet still now as a young man, he parroted his father's beliefs and prejudices.

Lucius had never given Draco a good reason for why he should hate Mudbloods and Muggles alike; he had often stated that they were inferior and stupid and were unworthy of magic and life, and that they tainted the bloodlines of true wizards. _Clearly_, thought Draco, _most of those reasons were bollocks_. After all, if all Mudbloods were stupid and inferior, how could Granger fit into that stereotype? Loathe as he was to admit it, Granger was the smartest witch he had ever met, and she was also the biggest Mudblood going. She punched a massive hole in all of his father's arguments, and if Draco was really honest with himself, that was part of the reason he'd often been so spiteful to her- she caused everything he had ever believed in to go entirely out the window. And, of course, she was friends with the insufferable Potter.

But even now that he had practically disowned his father, he had kept all the values that he had been taught because they were so ingrained in Draco after years of brainwashing that he didn't know what else there was to believe in. To reject these ideas would to be reject his entire life up to this point and Draco was by no means ready to do that; currently, he doubted that he ever would be. But the cracks were beginning to show, and he feared that one day he would simply go insane from the conflict constantly battling within him. _Perhaps, _he thought, _it would just be easier to stay the same. _He should just accept that he would always be considered racist and prejudiced and evil because it was much easier to maintain his current beliefs, even if he did accept (however begrudgingly) that the basis for them was ridiculous. Perhaps it would be easier if he stayed the same narrow-minded, intolerant, self-centred, arrogant little boy he had always been because change was much too hard to face.

Or perhaps he simply needed to find something, a physical reason, to abandon his old self and embrace the changes he ought to make- something that would make giving up everything worth it.

It was at this point that all thoughts of change were driven from his mind by the masses of steam issuing from his cauldron. Instead of fixing it, he took it as a sign, so he put out the fire, collected his things and left.

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><p>"...But it doesn't look right. And Luna said try Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, and of course you've used it before and it worked, but I don't want it to be pin straight or manageable, I want it to be soft and have volume, you know? I was thinking that the next time I can go into Hogsmeade I'll see if I can find anything…"<p>

Hermione nodded along mindlessly as Ginny wittered on and on about her hair at the Gryffindor table over dinner and she paid no attention. As much as she appreciated Ginny's company –especially since she had no-one else to talk to this year- she tended to ramble on about things Hermione didn't care about and things of no real importance. She, however, had many pressing significant matters on her mind that she couldn't discuss with Ginny. While in retrospect Hermione had realised her kiss with Theo had not been her fault, had not been initiated by her and had only been a small peck on the lips, she still felt very guilty. It was the ambiguity of her relationship with Ron that was making her feel so terrible and was driving her crazy. It wasn't as if she could just write him a letter and ask if they were in a relationship- no owl would be able to find them through their protective measures to deliver it- and therefore she wasn't sure if last night she had cheated on him or simply done something which as her friend Ron wouldn't like. Before she could continue to wallow in her self-pity, Ginny's words brought her mind back to the (very one-sided) conversation.

"…and apparently Pansy's been being awful to the first years because she's so upset. I heard she's cursed a few so badly that they had to go to the hospital wing-"

"'Pansy' as in 'Pansy Parkinson'?" Memories of last night's encounter with the crying Pansy triggered Hermione's first reply to Ginny in over ten minutes.

"How many Pansies do you know?" asked Ginny sarcastically. Taking advantage of the fact that she wasn't talking, she shovelled some of the untouched food on her plate into her mouth, in a rather Ron-esque fashion.

"What's Pansy got to be upset about?"

"Weren't you listening?" asked Ginny thickly, sounding offended. She swallowed her mouthful. She really was very like Ron. "Apparently, she's spent the past few days crying because Malfoy dumped her. Lavender Brown said that she saw her put a Full Body Bind on a second year yesterday and then take fifty points from him for laughing in the corridor. It seems she's a little on edge- not that I'm bothered, that is," Ginny added smugly. "Whatever makes her life a little worse is fine by me; she's a cow. Although, this information came from Lavender so it's probably exaggerated if it's even true; but then again, that girl does seem to know everything that goes on in Hogwarts. Absolutely nothing escapes those vicious lips of hers. Plus, she really fancies Malfoy, so she probably would be keeping tabs on his relationship status. Personally, I don't see his appeal, I think it's disgusting of her-"

"Well speaking of Lavender," said Hermione, cutting Ginny off as she was threatening to launch into another tidal wave of pointless gossip, "I have to speak with her about something. Excuse me."

"Ok," replied Ginny blandly, before quickly starting up conversation with one of her nearby sixth year friends. Hermione hastily made her exit.

Relieved to have had an excuse to get away from Ginny's ceaseless drivel, she approached Lavender (who was unsurprisingly gossiping with Parvati) and tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

"Hi Hermione!" said Lavender as she turned around, with a brightness that Hermione knew was fake. She smiled awkwardly in response.

"Hi Lavender," she replied briskly. "I just wanted to let you know that there's been a change in the rounds schedules."

"Oh?" asked Lavender, with a very forced smile and one eyebrow raised. Hermione found it hard not to scowl at her.

"Yes. Due to some… unforeseen circumstances, I've been forced to change the patrol pairs which means you won't be patrolling with Malfoy anymore; you'll be with Theodore Nott instead."

Lavender's face clouded. "Why?" she demanded sullenly.

"Conflicting timetabling… You know, Quidditch practises and stuff," Hermione lied hastily.

"But I don't want to patrol with Nott. I'm perfectly fine doing rounds with Malfoy," replied Lavender, in a tone of forced politeness.

She was wearing the same expression she had when she had found Hermione at Ron's bedside when he'd been poisoned the year before, only this time it was slightly masked by a gritted, false smile. Hermione was getting irritated by her stubbornness.

"Well I'm sorry Lavender, I don't particularly want to patrol with Malfoy, but I'm afraid there's no other option."

"Fine," she said, before turning back to Parvati and commenting on how Theo would do as he wasn't too ugly. Hermione barely contained a snort of contempt. They would no doubt start talking about her the minute she left them.

"One last thing Lavender!"

"Yes?" she responded snappishly.

"If you wouldn't mind, could you tell Theodore about the change? I'm too busy at the minute to do it myself," she simpered, with a sweet (and false) smile. She wasn't generally one to be so fake and… well, bitchy, but Lavender really did irritate her. At the present moment, she looked as though she was sucking on a lemon.

"Sure," she hissed distastefully.

"Thank you!" gushed Hermione sarcastically, before walking out of the Hall.

It had been a long, difficult day, and contending with Lavender had irritated her even more. All she really wanted was to return to her dorm and get some rest. She was staring off into space as she climbed the third floor stairs and consequently she crashed into someone trying to walk down. She cursed herself; it seemed like she had become ditsy without her friends around because bumping into people seemed to be becoming a recurring accident she was having. As she hastily babbled an apology, the other person stuttered one back and when Hermione looked up she saw that it was Theo. _Why was it that she never seemed to bump into anyone but Slytherins, _she wondered? Both of them froze and saying nothing Hermione stepped around him and ran the rest of the way to her room, feeling like she was about to vomit.

She had assumed that she would have to get used to frequent awkward encounters like that with Theo if she was intent on avoiding him for over a month, however that didn't stop her from feeling sick at the prospect of occasionally wordlessly bumping into him, either in the corridor or in class.

As she stepped into the common room, she was surprised to see Malfoy sat at his desk working fervently. She hadn't actually seen him doing work of any form in the past week.

"Didn't you get any food?" she asked, without greeting him.

Malfoy looked up, becoming aware of her presence.

"Don't mention food to me right now," he said, gagging slightly. "Even just thinking of it is too much…"

He returned to his work. No insults? Hermione was surprised. Was he perhaps in a good mood?

"About that note in Potions-" she began hopefully.

"We aren't even Granger, so you can stop pestering me. I didn't ask you to give me an alibi, so I refuse to count it. You still owe me and that's final," he said, without even looking up.

"You are such an arse, Malfoy."

"Careful Mudblood! If you're too mean to me I might decide that slipping you some of the Veritaserum we made today and forcing you to confess your sordid little deed with Theo in front of the whole school makes us even. I'm sure you wouldn't want that," he smirked, glancing at her.

"You're despicable," she said, striding to her room and slamming the door shut on him for another day.

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><p><strong>Reviews? Pretty please with sugar on top? x<strong>


	8. Questions

**A/N- Hello readers, here's a bonus update... Generally I don't update until the weekend but whatever, I'm feeling generous because it's half term and I've nothing else important to do. :)**

**Thank you to all who took the time to review but I (and of course my co-writer) really would love a few more- according to the stats over the 7 previous chapters there's been 3936 reads but only 25 reviews... Even if it's just a word or two, we really crave your feedback, and thank you if you give us (or have given us) a couple of seconds of your day to submit a review.**

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><p>As October came to the castle, it carried with it harsh, cold winds and frequent heavy rainstorms that meant if you were unlucky enough to be walking across the grounds to Herbology you were likely to get soaked or blown off course. The leaves on the trees of the Forbidden Forest had by now all turned browny gold and were slowly falling to the now treacherously muddy grounds.<p>

Despite a couple of awkward meetings, Hermione had successfully avoided Theo for the remainder of September, which had turned out to be quite an unremarkable month after a hectic first week. As the days had passed Hermione had gradually begun to feel less and less guilty about their kiss and she felt she was coping relatively well; at the very least, she had managed to keep crying to a minimum and contained within her room.

But Hermione still hadn't heard back from Fred and George and she was concerned. It had been weeks without a reply and she hoped to receive a letter from them soon because being around Ginny and wanting to tell someone how she felt wasn't a good combination. Hermione had lost count of the number of times she had wanted to tell Ginny what had happened with Theo, simply to get it off her chest and tell someone, even if she knew that she would likely get into a heated row about morals with Ginny as a result.

Then again, her life wasn't all bad as living with Malfoy had lost some of its awfulness. She suspected that the fact she wasn't socialising with Theo anymore was part of the reason Malfoy had been less spiteful, but being forced to patrol with him three times a week (as she had given the forth patrol she had allocated to Malfoy to Lavender) had at least required them to become more civil to each other. Of course they were hardly friends, and given the choice Hermione would have preferred to patrol alone, but she was making the best of a bad job, and at least Malfoy's usage of the word 'Mudblood' had dipped a little.

Hermione had also begun visiting Hagrid again. In the warmth of his house, he kept her spirits up in the absence of Harry and Ron, and he gave her all the news he could of Order business. She had learned that the Ministry were just about clinging onto control, although it seemed like soon they would fall. The thought had chilled Hermione to the core. It made her silly teenage problems seem small in comparison, so she said nothing to Hagrid about her situation with Theo, though she did confide in him how lonely she felt without the boys, how terrible she felt for Obliviating her parents, and her fears about their (and the boys') well-being. Hagrid's friendliness and kind words had eased the aching emptiness within her somewhat.

It was on a particularly wet and windy evening on the first Friday of October that Hermione was sat in his house drinking a cup of tea and shrinking frequently offered rock cakes so she could hide them in the pockets of her robes. They had been discussing Harry and Ron and whether they were ok, and now they were talking about the fate of the Ministry again. Hermione was trying to extract every bit of information she could about the Ministry from Hagrid who seemed very proud to be so knowledgeable about its inner workings.

"Ministry's bin havin' a right hard time o' it. Course, Dumbledore's bin tryin' ter help 'em, but Scrimgeour's not havin' it. He tells me all abou' it, does Dumbledore." His chest puffed proudly at having such importance placed on him, but then his face grew dark once more. "'S gettin' harder an' harder to know who's on our side an' who's on You-Know-Who's."

Hermione sipped her tea, eyes wide. "Have they found many of the Imperiused people? The Prophet said that they've found five cursed workers just this month-"

"The Prophet don' know nothin'," said Hagrid dismissively. "Half the stuff that's goin' on in the Ministry ain't bin reported. 'S gettin' worse Hermione, yeh don' know who ter trust anymore. Fer all we know, Scrimgeour himself could be cursed. 'S on'y a matter o' time before he's dead or Imperiused, an' there's nothin' we can do."

Hermione received this information with shock. She must have looked as panicked as she felt because Hagrid refilled her cup with tea and patted her rather heavily on the shoulder.

"No need to worry though. We still got Dumbledore, an' while he's around, yeh're safe here at Hogwarts."

Hermione nodded. She said nothing for a second and sipped her drink while looking out of the window. The sun had finally broken through the downpour, which had ceased for the first time in days, and it was dipping below the horizon, but the sky was growing black with looming rainclouds and they were extinguishing the rainbow colour of the sunset.

"But it isn't just me I'm worried about. I'm safe _here,_ but everyone out there's in danger; all the Muggles, the Weasleys, the Order, Harry and Ron. Of course, I respect the Order's wishes, and if they've asked me to stay at Hogwarts they must have a good reason, but I really do think I should be out there, helping. I should actually be doing something," she said in frustration. "I should have gone with the boys. It was always our plan… to do this together," she finished sadly. Again, Hagrid patted her comfortingly.

"They'll be fine, Hermione, yeh're worryin' 'bout 'em fer no reason. They've bin in worse situations before, don' yeh fret on it." Hagrid's words were intended to be soothing but as he, like the rest of the Order, knew nothing of the nature of Harry and Ron's task, they were empty.

"I just wish I knew why Professor McGonagall asked me to stay," she said, banging her mug on the table in exasperation and slopping tea about. "She said it was to help protect the castle, but I don't think that makes any sense-"

Hagrid began coughing loudly and stood up, turning away from Hermione and busying himself with putting away the teapot and her mug. Outside it had started raining once more- she could hear the fat droplets bouncing off the roof of Hagrid's house.

"Yeh should get goin', 's gettin' dark, yeh'll get inter trouble…"

"Hagrid?" said Hermione sharply. "Do you know why the Order wanted me to stay at Hogwarts?"

"'S'not me place ter say," he said. Hermione tried to object but he shook his head. "Now c'mon, I'll take yeh back ter the castle."

Hermione was quite irked. Hagrid clearly knew something he wasn't telling her, and he was only holding it back for one of two reasons: the Order had made it very clear that he shouldn't tell her (in which case she would probably find out anyway as Hagrid was no good at keeping secrets); or he wasn't telling her because the real reason was terrible and would upset her. Either way, curiosity now burned within her, making her desperate to know. She said nothing much else to Hagrid as he walked her through the rain to the castle doors, where she bid him a quick goodbye. He responded uncomfortably, and while Hermione felt regretful that she had made him feel awkward, she believed that she had the right to the information that he was withholding.

Her soaked robes clung to her skin unpleasantly and she walked quickly back to her dorm, eager to dry them before patrol. As she walked, she mused over ways to get Hagrid to tell her what he was so clearly hiding. She didn't really like the idea of manipulating him with a potion or other magic, but she was desperate for some kind of justification for leaving Harry and Ron. Now that it was certain that Professor McGonagall hadn't been entirely truthful to her in the holidays, Hermione was keen to find out why.

Once safe in her bedroom, she stripped herself of her wet clothes and hastily dried them with hot steam she produced from her wand. She put them back on and when she walked back out into the common room she saw that Malfoy wasn't there. With a sigh of irritation, she sauntered over to the bookcase that covered one wall and selected an interesting-looking leather tome off a shelf; if she was going to wait for the Head Boy, she decided she may as well spend the time doing something enjoyable. She pushed her thoughts aside for the time being and settled herself happily into an armchair.

By the time the majority of the magically lit candles around the room had burned down halfway, Malfoy finally appeared. Hermione didn't notice him; she was engrossed in her book and had lost track of time. His silky tones dragged her out of chapter five of the novel and back into reality.

"Nose in a book, Granger? Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"Oh, hello," she said, snapping the book shut and leaving it on a side-table to come back to later. "Shall we go?"

Lately she had taken to ignoring his insults and jibes because it prevented them from getting drawn into a long and pointless argument. Learning to hold her tongue occasionally (as Malfoy never held his) had saved countless frustrating screaming matches and was another contributing factor to the fact that rounds were less hellish than they had the potential to be.

The pair made their way silently out of the common room and they spent some time walking around the fourth floor. Hermione always found Malfoy's staunch silence unnerving. His face never gave anything away (either that or she hadn't learnt to read it very well) and so she could never tell what kind of mood he was in until he spoke. It appeared Malfoy too found the hush unpleasant because he was absentmindedly scratching his left forearm. Though Hermione couldn't read his expressions, she knew enough of his body language to know that this was a sure sign he was uncomfortable; she often saw him do it when teachers asked him questions in lessons and he didn't know the answers. She couldn't help but stare at the robes covering his arm, the robes that she was fairly certain concealed his Dark Mark. It made her feel sick and angry and brought awful memories to mind of when the Death Eaters had entered the school the previous July.

"What are you doing?" Malfoy asked abruptly.

Hermione snapped her eyes up and realised that he had caught her staring at his arm. His face was thunderous and she guessed that he knew why she'd been looking so intently.

"Nothing, just daydreaming," she replied hastily.

Malfoy continued to glower at her with his cold, grey eyes and she guiltily turned away from his burning gaze. She thought perhaps he'd yell at her, but he said nothing.

For a long time she fought the urge to throw accusations about Dumbledore his way; she wanted to ask him why he'd not been able to kill him, but equally why he'd let the Death Eaters in in the first place. Her silence was proving more difficult to keep with each second that passed.

"I didn't ask for it you know."

Malfoy stared solemnly ahead as Hermione looked at him curiously.

"You can judge me all you like and you can stare at my arm if you want, but don't go thinking you're better than me and I'm the bad guy. I didn't ask to become a Death Eater. I didn't ask to… to kill Dumbledore, or for Snape to make the Unbreakable Vow- I bet Potter knew about that didn't he? He told you?" Malfoy spat.

He looked exasperated, hurt almost. Hermione said nothing- she was intrigued and didn't want to cut him off. He ran a hand through his hair.

"Self-righteous little prick. I bet he told you that I loved every second of it up in the Astronomy Tower. Well, I didn't. I didn't ask for any of it. But if the Dark Lord tells you to do something, you do it. He was going to kill me and my family; I didn't have a choice- "

His voice caught, and his firm, aggressive tone faltered. Still silent, Hermione hurried down a staircase alongside him. Why was he telling her this? This sudden surge of honesty wasn't like him at all.

"And now that he's getting more powerful it itches and burns every so often. It's a constant reminder of why I should hate myself. You know, I've even thought about just taking a knife and gouging it off my arm, just to get rid of it… I-"

He looked at her for the first time since he'd started talking.

"I don't know why I just told you all that."

He looked away again and for a second Hermione saw his bravado drop, and she saw that he looked in pain and more innocent than he had ever seemed before… and then he shook his head and resumed his usual swagger.

"So Granger, stare at it all you like, and judge me, but I'm not the evil villain you thought I was. And you better not repeat what I said to anyone."

She had never thought of Malfoy this way before- as just another victim of Voldemort's. This was a whole new side to him; a vulnerable, somewhat sensitive side, and perhaps all his arrogance and rudeness was purely to mask it. The very thought made her head spin. She felt awful that she'd been staring so accusingly at the mark which had clearly caused him so much pain.

"Malfoy, I'm so sorry."

"I don't need pity, Granger, especially not from a Mudblood."

_So he had resumed his cold manner then_? Hermione was sick of attempting to be nice and civil to him.

"You know, you've called me Mudblood so many times now that it's lost a lot of its effect. You should get some new material or I might think you're losing your touch."

She watched with amusement as she scowled darkly. It was refreshing to annoy him back after so long spent ignoring how irritated she got when he insulted her. He was saved the need to reply when they encountered a few fourth years in the corridor. He muttered a few choice swear words at them before warning them to get back to their rooms or he'd curse their ears off.

"You're abusing your power Malfoy, you aren't allowed to threaten them," said Hermione indignantly as the boys scurried away.

"I'll do whatever I like. I'm Head Boy."

"Arrogant pig."

"Bushy haired know-it-all."

Hermione saw Malfoy smirk though it didn't seem to have its typical vicious air to it. He hadn't been putting much effort into his insults lately and it was most unexpected; perhaps he would eventually just call a truce with her? She smiled to herself at the silly thought.

"What are you grinning at?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"Well stop it, you look like more of a bloody idiot than usual."

"Charming."

Hermione didn't feel nearly as angry at Malfoy's slurs as she had during their first patrol, which had culminated in a massive argument and Malfoy running away from a violent swarm of birds she had conjured. Over the past month she had grown a thick skin to his sharp words, and she was glad; otherwise she would have been a snivelling, fragile wreck by now. It seemed that currently, both of them were content to despise each other and brush off the inevitable jibes without feeling the need to come to blows about it every thirty seconds.

For some reason, in a flurry of odd thoughts running through her head while she tried to escape the silent awkwardness of patrol, Hermione found herself wondering about Malfoy's personal life, or the distinct lack of it. In previous years he had always seemed to have an entourage around him but not this year. _Did he have friends_, she wondered? She never really saw him with his cronies anymore.

"Why don't you hang about with Crabbe and Goyle anymore?" asked Hermione, braving the first personal question she'd ever asked him. Malfoy eyed her strangely. "Oh come on, we live together and patrol together and we barely know each other. I'm entitled to a few questions now and again."

While Hermione felt her point was entirely valid, in reality she was asking him the question because she felt an odd desire to find out as much as she could about him while he seemed in quite an open mood. Her curiosity about Malfoy, the real Malfoy, not the Slytherin who had picked on her and her friends for years, had been suddenly piqued by her small glimpse at a part of him with _real_ emotions; it made him seem, for the first time, like an actual person, and a person she knew next to nothing about. For some reason that thought irritated her.

Malfoy half-smiled. "Ok then. The short answer is that they're imbeciles. They're impossible to talk to- they can barely string two words together. They're total fucking idiots." Hermione winced. "Their company was awful, so I left them behind."

Hermione was surprised though she didn't know why. What answer had she expected? Certainly not that Malfoy had stopped being friends with Crabbe and Goyle because of their lack of intelligent conversation. That was almost a mature reason.

She nodded in acceptance of Malfoy's answer and they walked around a little more. Hermione felt the silence extend and become almost awkward again and she glanced jealously at the friendly conversations the people in the portraits were having. Currently she envied them very much; she even found herself wishing as they walked past a painting of some dreary fields that she was in there and not a third floor corridor with the Head Boy.

"So if we're on the subject of getting to know each other, I suppose I should ask you something," said Malfoy musingly. Startled by his sudden speech, Hermione surveyed him in interest.

"If I answer are we finally even?" she asked eagerly.

She really resented owing Malfoy a favour after he'd swapped patrols for her; it had been weeks and he hadn't called it in. To her surprise, he smiled broadly, flashing superbly white teeth. It was the first genuine smile she had ever seen on his face.

"No, Granger. When we're even, trust me, you'll know. You don't even have to answer if you're going to be like that. I just thought that in the spirit of fair play you would grant me an answer since I willingly gave you one."

He'd got her there. Hermione was nothing if she wasn't reasonable- Malfoy had answered her question truthfully (she assumed) and as he was being virtually pleasant to her now, she supposed she should play nice and grant him the same courtesy.

"Fine, fire away."

"Don't tempt me to fire things at you, I may actually do it," he smirked teasingly as Hermione frowned at him. "But I was just wondering where Potty and the Weasel are. And why aren't you with them? I thought the three of you had an awful little 'save-the-world, goody-two-shoes' type thing going on? Why break it up?"

Though he tried to hide it, Malfoy's face was shining with curiosity.

"Actually that's the one thing I can't tell you. Not because it's you who asked!" Hermione added hastily when Malfoy looked angry. "I can't tell you because I can't tell anyone. It's sort of a secret. As for why I'm not with them… well, Professor McGonagall said that she needs me to protect the castle but I think she's lying. I think there's something she isn't telling me."

Malfoy nodded and he looked a little disappointed.

"Why did you want to know?"

"Just curious."

"Really?"

"Yes, why else would I ask? As if I care where they are as long as they aren't near me, annoying me. I only wish they'd taken you with them, that's all." Hermione winced as his barb unknowingly hit a sore spot on her conscience. Malfoy was trying to smirk but it didn't look right. "Now come on, this was your idea. Ask me something. We're still having this little 'getting-to-know-you' session, yes?"

Hermione nodded, though she had no idea why Malfoy was encouraging almost friendly conversation between them.

"Erm… biggest fear?"

"As if I'm going to tell you that Granger," he snorted. "I don't want you exploiting it. Something else." He was half-smiling again. His behaviour tonight was very odd, but Hermione told herself not to bother questioning it; she'd drive herself insane.

"Fine. What annoys you the most then?"

Malfoy looked thoughtful. In profile, Hermione saw his eyes narrow and his lips purse slightly.

"Stupidity," he announced after a few seconds. "I can't stand stupid people. Oh, and Mudbloods of course."

Hermione tutted and rolled her eyes, allowing the lame insult to brush by her. "Your turn."

"Favourite colour?"

"What are we, five?" she laughed. Draco stared at her. "It's periwinkle blue- the same colour as my dress at the Yule Ball… although I don't suppose you'll have noticed it." He looked away from her, and there was a strange glaze over his eyes that she didn't know the meaning of. "Yours?"

"Green."

"Surprise, surprise."

"Shut up. Hmm…" Again Malfoy paused to think, before asking in an almost menacingly polite tone: "How do you feel about Theo right now?"

Hermione blanched. She didn't want to think about him and there was no way she was going to tell Malfoy about her guilt, or Ron, or her meeting with the twins in Hogsmeade for advice. Plus, he'd probably get annoyed.

"I'm not answering that one."

"Fine. But you can't pass any of the other questions," he said deviously, and she nodded apprehensively, wondering what she'd gotten herself into. "Hmm… Oh, I know!" he said devilishly. "Have you ever been drunk?"

Hermione blushed sheepishly. "You mean like you were?"

Malfoy scowled. She smiled.

"Only once. Harry, Ron, Ginny, the twins, Charlie and I stole some of Mr Weasley's Firewhiskey during the summer before last and kept refilling it while we were drinking it." She smiled at the memory. "We all got really drunk; it was quite funny for the most part, at least to begin with."

Malfoy looked a little startled. "I didn't have you down as an underage drinker."

"I'm not. It was just the once. You know, just to try it. I didn't want them to always think of me as just the bossy little bookworm so I drank. "

He nodded. "So why was it only funny to begin with? What happened?"

"I ended up getting into a row with Ron and Ginny because I kissed Harry. They didn't speak to me for over a week. That's why I've never drunk since."

Hermione realised it was very, very stupid to be telling Malfoy all of this- she was merely giving him more information he could use to torture her or threaten her with, but for some reason she couldn't help herself. His newfound sensitivity was compelling. It wasn't just that though. She found herself unable to resist Malfoy's probing questions while he wasn't being vicious to her and while he was being honest in return; it was as though she wasn't talking to him at all, but somebody else.

"Right, your go," he said.

"Oh…" Hermione struggled to think of an adequate question. She needed to ask him something that she could hold against him if he ever threatened to tell people of what she'd confessed, but she couldn't think what would be suitable.

"How many girls have you slept with?"

The question was out of her mouth before she knew what had happened. There was a very tense pause. She was appalled with herself- she had needed to ask him something private, but not _that_ private. She clapped her hands to her mouth as if trying to force the words back in. Why on Earth had that particular question sprung to mind? What had she done?

"That's a very personal question Granger."

Malfoy's tone was calm and even. They were still walking and Hermione was glad; if they had been stood still she would have had to meet his eye.

"I know. I'm so sorry… I don't know what came over me-"

"Twenty-two."

Hermione stood still. Malfoy turned around to face her. Her eyes were wide.

"_Twenty-two?"_ she asked incredulously. "That's not true."

"I assure you, it is. I can give you the names of most of them if you like," he said. He started walking again and Hermione sped after him to catch up to him.

"How did you convince twenty-two girls to sleep with you? Did you Confund them all first?" she snorted. After a second, Hermione registered the disgusted tone of her words and she was convinced that any second now Malfoy would go insane because of the way she'd wounded his pride. Instead, he did the last thing she expected him to do- he burst out laughing.

He laughed so hard that tears of mirth trickled out of his eyes and Hermione found herself staring, dumbstruck, before tentatively joining in.

"I really did not expect that from you!" he said with a smile on his face as he recovered. Hermione smiled too. They were stood like that for a little while, Malfoy and Hermione, staring at each other and smiling. Hermione's brown orbs took in Draco's deep silver pools, glittering like diamonds, and she found herself suddenly breathless.

"It's your turn. Ask me something," she said quietly.

"Like what?" he asked. He was still staring at her intensely. She felt her cheeks begin to burn.

"I don't know… anything, ask me anything," she said. Still, she kept her eyes locked on his.

"Are you a virgin?"

The spell had broken- Hermione blushed darker and more vividly, looking down and tearing herself away from his eyes, before looking back up at him without the breathlessness. He no longer looked innocent and sensitive- he looked conniving and wicked with a stupid sly grin on his face. She stared at him open mouthed.

"What kind of question is that?" she spluttered. "I can't believe you! It's none of your business!"

"You said I could ask you anything. And you've already denied me the answer to one question- you agreed to answer all the others. _And_ since I answered your personal question you have to answer me this one." He looked so smug she could have easily punched him. Instead she settled for a loathsome glare. "So are you?"

"Fine. Yes, I am," she said through gritted teeth.

His face lit up with evil glee. So he was still mostly a prick then. She stared at him defiantly, daring him to make a sly comment about how she was a virgin because she was ugly, because she was a prude, because she was too interested in school to even bother with her appearance or seem remotely sexual in any way; daring him to suggest one of the things that she herself worried.

"Lighten up Granger."

His eyes were gleaming once more, like silver this time. Suddenly his fingers grazed hers, and both of them jumped, realizing how close they had gotten to each other while talking and what had just happened. Hermione braced herself for Malfoy to cringe and shrink away. Instead he just leaned closer to her.

"Maybe you'll be able to fix that sooner than you think."

Shock engulfed her, and for some reason her heart began hammering against her ribcage. He was smirking for what seemed to her like the hundredth time. Had he just said what she thought he had?

"_What's going on?"_


	9. Remember

**Oooh, wonder who saw them at the end of last chapter? ;)**

**Make sure to review, thank you so so so much for your reviews on the last chapter, I loved them all! Sorry this chapter's a little short, it's kind of a filler. BUT you got two chapters this week, so don't complain :)**

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><p>Draco stepped back abruptly and his devious smile vanished from his face, which paled even whiter than usual. Pansy was stood at the end of the corridor to him looking half like she'd been punched in the stomach and half like she wanted to cast an Unforgivable Curse on him. Even at this distance he could see tears shining in her eyes. He moved even further away from Granger. Shit, he thought. Time for damage control.<p>

"Pans, it isn't what you think. We aren't friends."

She said nothing, just choked and stared at him, her chest heaving.

"We aren't friends," he said again. "You think I'd want to be friends with a Mudblood? With _her_?"

Surprisingly, Granger didn't really respond to his disgusted protest; she just rolled her eyes and sighed. Pansy however shook her head and backed away. She tried to say something but all that came out was a strange strangled sound, and before Draco could say anything she had run away.

"Great," he muttered. He could still hear her sobbing as she fled through the school. Hermione shook her head and sighed again before walking away from him.

"Come on Malfoy. We still have half an hour left before our rounds are over. And we'll have to report Pansy. It's after hours." She seemed a little exasperated and shocked.

Draco was bemused.

"Weren't you bothered by… by what I said just now?"

She turned back to face him, and her expression told Draco she was trying to formulate the right words.

"Not particularly. Like I said, you've called me Mudblood so much I barely care anymore. I'm just confused. Every time I start to think a little better of you, you do something that shows me you're exactly the same as you always have been. You're the most exhausting person I know. It's impossible to keep up with your moods, and your stupid multiple-personalities are driving me crazy."

She sauntered off, leaving Draco to puzzle over her words before following her at a distance.

Granger had started thinking better of him because of what he'd said about his Dark Mark and a couple of stupid questions? What was wrong with her? He'd only spoken to her because he had been so starved of intelligent conversation recently- what with no Theo and a lovesick and obsessed Blaise spending all his time talking about Daphne, Granger was Draco's only outlet. He tended to take out his frustration on her with sharp words, but it seemed he'd bottled up a little too much recently and it had spilled into their conversation.

He had just been venting. When he'd caught her staring so obviously at his arm he'd instantly known what she was thinking; she was so easy to read most of the time. Her emotions had been spelled out on her face- disgust and anger. That had pissed him off. Had she thought that he'd begged the Dark Lord for it? That he'd wanted to be entangled in an evil web of murder and danger? He fucking hadn't. She had no idea how he had really felt about it, and yet she had been judging him. He had merely been setting the record straight before she formulated some entirely false opinion of him and started thinking that she was better than him. Admittedly though, he had run away with himself; it had all gotten a little emotional around midway through and he was lucky he had stopped himself when he had or else he had no idea what else he'd have told her. It was just that for a second he'd forgot he was even talking to anyone, and when he'd remembered he was spilling his soul to Granger he'd silenced himself. Tonight, bizarrely, her company had been somewhat amusing, even enjoyable, for the first time since he had met her. Their insults also had descended into almost friendly banter, which was worrying. He'd even smirked to himself at how much like subtle teasing it had seemed. The revelation that his best insult, too, had lost its sting had been shocking. If 'Mudblood' didn't hurt anymore, what would he say to get under her skin? He thrived off her indignation, her anger, her red face and insulted scowls. They amused him. What else could he say to her now? Insult her appearance? Call her a prude? Pretty soon she'd become accustomed to them too and he'd be stuck again. Draco ran a weary hand through his sleek hair.

And then she'd gone and asked him about Crabbe and Goyle. She'd actually shown interest in his personal life and it had caught him off guard so he'd answered. To get even he'd parried her inquiry with one of his own, one he'd been dying to ask for a while but couldn't bring himself to say because of his damn pride, and so she had drawn him into her awful little quiz.

That little reference to the Yule Ball had thrown him off too. She didn't think he'd noticed her dress- of course he had. Everyone had. That night in their fourth year had been the night Hermione Granger had seemed like a real girl, and not a lonely, asexual bookworm.

Periwinkle blue. It had accented her skin perfectly. She had looked (thought Draco with resentment) positively flawless and heavenly, and only sternly imagining what his father would say if he found out had prevented Draco from having an embarrassing erection fiasco. He cringed at the memory. For weeks after he'd felt incredibly guilty and disgusted with himself, as if he'd committed some kind of atrocity for finding Granger attractive. He'd had to forcibly remind himself on several occasions that she was foul and vile and everything that was wrong with the magical world, and consequently he'd been particularly vicious to her after that, as though it was her fault that she had such a divine figure, as though it was her fault she had developed so fantastically and aroused the attention of every boy in the room. Of course, he was over it now- he knew he could never have her so there was no point entertaining such ridiculous (and foul) ideas… though that hadn't stopped him agreeing with Blaise after they'd been drinking about finding Granger attractive.

But he did have to mentally accost himself for being such an idiot. He had been teasing Granger tonight, and he knew it, though he didn't have the faintest idea why. Perhaps it was because it was just so deliciously entertaining to watch her blush and look embarrassed as she spilled her secrets to him; it made him feel powerful because he now knew so much he could hold over her for the rest of the year. But they'd been staring intensely into each other's eyes- he'd even made a joke about shagging her… what had he been thinking? He groaned out loud and Granger turned around and eyed him suspiciously.

Of course it went without saying that he still hated her. But how long had Pansy been stood observing their interaction? He knew what it must have seemed like to her and he kicked himself for being so careless. Pansy would no doubt now go around telling everyone that he was friends with the biggest Mudblood of all time, which would do nothing for his rapidly dwindling reputation. He cursed and again, Granger whipped her head around to glance at him. Things were going from bad to worse.

What he ought to do, he thought as he followed Granger back upstairs, was to find Pansy, apologise to her, ask her to take him back and then seal the deal with a quick, emotionless fuck. That way, his reputation as a callous Mudblood hater and sleazy dirtbag would be saved and he'd easily be able to commit Pansy to silence. However, he knew that wouldn't happen because he had begun to feel sick at the very thought of resuming his relationship with her. As September had worn on he had become increasingly consumed by the part of him desperate to find someone he could possibly love (or at the very least, like) and he knew for certain that there was no way Pansy was that girl. So he had no choice but to let her spread rumours if she wanted and he would do his best to deny them.

He had caught up with Granger, and she seemed perfectly fine, which annoyed Draco a little. She wasn't in the least bit bothered by how he'd demeaned her in front of Pansy- had she really become so quickly desensitised to his insults? He cleared his throat and she looked at him.

"Yes?"

"You don't have to pretend you're fine Granger, I know you're upset." He tried to keep an arrogant air about his voice as he didn't want to sound too desperate, as though he needed to know she was upset.

"I'm not pretending. I'm perfectly okay," she said casually.

"Are you?"

"Contrary to what you might believe Malfoy, your thoughts about me are not the centre of my world. You can call me what you like; I don't care."

She certainly sounded like she didn't. Draco got even more irritated. He enjoyed insulting Granger- the rise he got out of her every time eased his frustration; he loved knowing it was as simple as throwing a sentence or two her way to make her brow furrow and her face turn murderous. It was about controlling things. He liked to know he could control some of Granger's emotions. Now that it seemed she had grown a thick skin… well, it seemed he had no choice but to try a little harder. At the very least, he still had the favour she owed him hanging over her head- she really did seem to resent being in his debt, and that was better than nothing.

Draco spent the rest of the patrol and the subsequent walk back to their dorm trying to come up with some emergency insults to spit at her, but as he searched the depths of his mind to find something new, he kept coming up blank. He really did keep repeating the same old stuff, didn't he? No wonder it had lost its effect.

By the time the pair had got to their dorm, Draco still hadn't thought of one good insult to fire at her before bed, and so he silently shut himself in his room and scrambled under his sheets, still trying to invent some imaginative insults as he drifted off into uneasy sleep.

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><p>After the confusing and tiring disaster that had been rounds, Hermione was pleasantly surprised when she arrived back into her room to find a very large brown barn owl perched on her mahogany desk with a letter clamped in its beak. She knew instantly that it was from Fred and George due to the fact that the envelope was a violently bright orange and she could think of no-one else who would send her something so horrendously extravagant. Her heart soared and she laughed out loud as she rushed over to the owl and took the letter out of the bird's mouth, stroking its head in thanks. It clicked its beak and hopped over onto the windowsill but it didn't fly out of the open window- Hermione deduced that Fred and George must have told it not to leave without a reply. She hungrily tore open the envelope and was instantly engulfed in a cloud of glitter and peppermint scented smoke. She giggled at the oddness of it, and then turned her eyes to eagerly drink in the words on the parchment:<p>

_Hermione, _

_Sorry about the slow reply- we've been swamped with orders lately so it took us a while to get to your letter… and also, sorry about the envelope. We only have one kind and they're usually used to send product order conformations and stuff, hence the glitter and the smoke. _

_Anyway, if you're asking for advice from us, whatever's happened must be bad. And if it's about Ron… well, we don't even want to think about him. He's just a general prat. _

_Of course, we'd be happy to meet you in Hogsmeade. We've missed the place, and we were planning to visit Zonko's anyway to check out the competition. The Three Broomsticks, 2 o'clock? _

_Looking forward to it… and in the meantime don't let ickle Ronniekins get you down! _

_Gred and Forge _

Hermione felt better just reading their letter. It had cheered her up immensely after her infuriating night with Malfoy. She scribbled a quick reply on the back of the parchment confirming the place and time and folded it up before giving it to the owl. As it flew out of the window, she caught a strong whiff of peppermint, and she shook herself. Glitter danced off her like sparkly snow, and she felt much better about the rest of the month before her.

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><p><strong>PLEASE REVIEW. Reviews are better than sex with Draco... though only just ;)<strong>


	10. Lies

**For those of you hoping to see F&G in this chapter, my co-writer and I apologise... alas, they are not here. BUT they will be soon, so hold tight :) As hearty F&G lovers ourselves I can assure you when they appear they play a big part...**

**In other news, in this chapter the plot thickens and both our favourite characters have something more to think about. **

**Thank you so so so so much for all the reviews to the past few chapters... the numbers have certainly increased and it hasn't gone unnoticed. Please feel free to review again and we hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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><p>As Professor McGonagall spoke, Hermione was writing frantically, taking notes on every single bit of information given. Though she did normally make excessive notes during her lessons, nowadays she scribbled down everything said by her teachers with more ferocity than normal, purely to distract herself from the stark absence of Harry and Ron in the seats beside her. In every lesson now she had a desk all to herself and it was entirely depressing. Additionally, as of late, Professor McGonagall hadn't been meeting Hermione's eye very much, nor had she asked Hermione for answers as much as she used to. Hermione knew that her classmates hadn't noticed the slight change in the Professor's behaviour, but she certainly had, and it had further fuelled her suspicion that there was something she wasn't sharing with Hermione.<p>

Just as her hand was beginning to ache from writing her third page on Conjuring Spells, she was forced to pause when the Professor stopped abruptly mid-speech and Hermione heard the door bang open behind her. Everyone in the room turned around.

"So glad you could join us, Miss Parkinson. Sit down and see me after class."

Pansy stood in the doorway for a second, as if daring everyone to question her puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. Whispers followed her as she walked towards the front of the classroom. Hermione noticed that she paused for a second at Malfoy's desk (which contained an empty seat) and then seemed to decide against it, fresh tears springing up in her eyes as she made her way towards Hermione's desk at the very front, where the only other empty seats were. She planted herself in the chair Harry would normally have taken –the one furthest from Hermione- wrinkled her nose in disgust and still snivelling, took out her quill, inkpot and a roll of parchment. For the rest of the lesson she sat staring blankly at it, not writing a single word, occasionally looking up to throw Hermione a poisonous glare when she saw her looking on disapprovingly.

By the end of the lesson, Hermione had written twelve pages of notes and was trying to force them into her already heavy and full bag when she was delighted to hear Pansy getting a severe telling off, a detention and twenty points from Slytherin due to her late arrival and distinct lack of notes.

She was making her way to Charms, her last class of the day, when the inevitable happened- her bag broke due to the stupendous amount of parchment and books crammed inside it. Heavy, leather bound novels, quills and ink bottles tumbled to the floor. Sighing, she set about cleaning up the inky mess that was the contents of her bag. She was siphoning up spilled ink when she heard shouting and yelling approach her.

"What were you doing with her?" came a hysteric female voice a little way off. Silence followed and so the girl repeated the question again, more desperately. At last came a reply from a male voice she recognised as Malfoy's. He sounded angry.

"Nothing Pansy! I told you, it was nothing."

"I was watching you for ages… you were looking at her differently and I heard what you said about her not being a virgin for much longer…"

"I was just winding her up! Merlin, Pansy, she's a Mudblood- I would never go near her! Stop being such a stupid bitch and leave me alone!"

So it appeared Pansy was still pestering Malfoy for the brief few seconds she had witnessed them looking remotely friendly on Friday night during patrol. The voices were no longer moving- Pansy and Malfoy must have come to a halt nearby. Hermione continued to repack her bag but listened intently.

"That's not what it looked like to me Draco!" she said tearfully. "Please," she said softly, "please, just take me back-"

"No!" he replied furiously. She heard Pansy wail. "You're only imagining this stupid thing in the first place because you still want to be with me! If you were being sensible you'd be able to accept that it's blindingly clear that I am not friends with Granger, and that I don't love you!"

There was a horrific silence and Hermione thought for a second that Pansy had either fainted or run away. Conscious that she could be discovered eavesdropping at any second, she began shoving her now clean notes haphazardly into her repaired bag, although she did pause when she heard Pansy respond through choked sobs.

"How could you be so cruel?"

Then before she knew what was happening, hurried footsteps were heading her way and suddenly from around the corner burst a fleeing Pansy. Hermione stood up, one hand clasping her bag. Pansy looked a mess. Her eyes narrowed upon seeing Hermione.

"Enjoy the show?" she cried. "This is all fault anyway, you filthy Mudblood!" She shot her a dirty look and then sprinted away, _probably to the girls' toilets, _thought Hermione.

She was thoroughly embarrassed to be caught listening in on a private conversation and was glad that Pansy had been too busy running away to notice her flaming red cheeks- at least, she was glad until she turned around and found herself caught in the gaze of a very irritated Malfoy, who was standing in the corridor.

"What're you doing here?" he asked.

"Oh… I… my bag broke," she said gesturing to the fixed bag in her hands, and Malfoy stared at her.

His face flushed in rage and his brows knotted.

"Well it seems perfectly fine now. Shouldn't you be in Charms?"

"Shouldn't you?" she retorted.

"That's beside the point Granger. I wasn't the one spying," he said coolly, before swaggering away in the opposite direction to Charms.

Realizing with a jolt of panic that she was late, Hermione had no time to feel guilty for being so nosey and to dwell on what she had just heard as she ran to Professor Flitwick's classroom.

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><p>Draco was bleeding profusely for the third time since Monday afternoon; this time it was because he had struck his bedroom wall in frustration and the stone had torn his skin. Yesterday he'd bled after he'd punched a hole in his window, and Monday evening he had stubbed his toe when he'd kicked a wall very hard as he walked to the Great Hall for dinner after skipping Charms. Lashing out at things was currently the only way he could let out his emotions. As he conjured bandages to dress his aching knuckles, he groaned and then threw himself face down onto his four poster bed.<p>

He had (very unfortunately) been thinking virtually non-stop about Pansy for the past two days. She was almost unavoidable and though he'd been incredibly harsh on her after Transfiguration the other day, she still hadn't given up on him, much to Draco's dismay. She had taken to either staring at him across classrooms then starting to cry when he caught her gaze and looked back, or passing him notes that were doodled with little hearts- none of which he read. Though he had initially felt more than a bit sorry for her because of the horrifically cruel way in which he'd spoken to her, her annoying new mannerisms were making it very difficult for him to sympathise with her. He had realised that in his irritation he had really hurt her, something he had never wanted to do, but she had really pissed him off when she'd accused him of actually _liking _Granger.

But like he'd done more and more these days, he'd been forced to bottle up his emotions because he had no one to talk to. He was very much isolated, and it was no wonder he'd been so ridiculously civil to Granger during their last patrol. He'd made the mistake of venting to her once, but it would never happen again, he assured himself; he'd simply allowed himself to become too familiar with her and he'd have to correct that as soon as possible.

He was beginning to feel a little claustrophobic in his room. It stifled him, and as he'd spent the majority of his free time since Monday locked inside of it, it seemed less like a haven of peace and quiet and more like a cell. What he needed to do was get out of his own head for a while and forget about Pansy, forget about Granger and forget about his desperate craving for a relationship that _still_ haunted him in moments of solitude, and he wouldn't achieve that trapped inside his room. Hastily, he stood up, intent on having a wander around the castle. He didn't really care where he went; he just wanted to let his feet take him where they would while he tried to sort out the mess that was his head.

He tried to look at his problems logically so he could at least try to solve them. On the relationship front, he thought as he walked through the portrait hole, he had made little to no progress. It didn't help that he was not an expert on relationships at all- even his friendships were pretty fucked up. In actual fact, he realised, probably the main reason he'd been so compliant with Granger lately, with her questions on patrol, teasing her like they were friends, was because he craved intimacy so much that he'd played along with her a bit. Merlin. He sounded like a bloody girl. Was he really desperate enough that he'd allowed Granger to see a side of him he never showed anyone? He felt ill at that awful idea. But how had she felt? She'd smiled back, responded almost warmly to his humour… Then again, he really did have bigger, and more pressing problems than Granger smiling at him once or twice.

When it came to Pansy, as he saw it, he had three options: he could tell her to stop being so obsessive and get over him; he could hope that in her own time she would get over him; or he could just stop caring about what she did. He highly doubted that his first option would work because she hadn't listened to what he'd already said to her, and nor did he believe that Pansy would get over him in the near future. It wasn't that he was arrogant (at least not in this instance), but he'd had an on/off thing with Pansy since about second year, and he didn't think it would be a quick process for her to get over something which had spanned so many years. It seemed that the latter of his options would be the most likely scenario, because if Pansy continued with her annoying antics, Draco knew his patience would very quickly wear thin and he'd just start feeling sick of her stupid behaviour.

At the very least, Pansy would hopefully at least come to see that Draco was most definitely not friends with or interested in Granger, and she would stop fuelling rumours around the school that not only were the Head Boy and Girl actually on good terms, they were friends. As Pansy had spread more and more disgusting and entirely untrue gossip, more lies had sprung up amongst the students: there were even some people who claimed that he and Granger were dating secretly. He had done his best to deny these rumours, and while his housemates had claimed to believe him, he could see the seeds of doubt sown within them. How Pansy thought that trying to win Draco back by spreading shit about him was a good idea he didn't know.

Suddenly, he became aware of his surroundings, and Draco found himself halfway up the stairs of the Astronomy Tower. He stopped sharply. A cold sense of déjà vu crept upon him; this place held nothing but bad memories for him about his almost betrayal last year, memories that made him hate himself and caused his stomach to contort into odd shapes. Every part of him wanted to walk back down the stairs and get as far away as he could (and he thanked Merlin that he'd given up Astronomy after fifth year), but he didn't. Why should he feel so guilty, he wondered? He wasn't a bad person- he had just done a bad thing, and actually, he hadn't even been able to go through with his awful task. He scratched his left forearm anxiously. This was childish and ridiculous, he chided himself. Determined to at least fix something in his head tonight, he purposefully strode up the spiral staircase.

He thought the sun must be setting- the little light that reached the staircase was almost golden. As he climbed higher, he got dizzier, so he began climbing at a slower pace. He had forgotten how many stairs there were, and he was panting by the time he had almost got to the top, and then he stopped completely when he heard some strange noises.

They were mewling little moans, clearly slightly restrained, and breathy gasps mingling with heavy panting that wasn't Draco's. They were familiar noises because up until recently, he had heard them regularly within his bedroom- there were people having sex at the top of the Astronomy Tower.

Draco did not consider himself a pervert, but he couldn't help but be a little curious as to the identity of the mysterious exhibitionists. He had before heard stories of the more adventurous couples heading to the top of the tower for a cheeky rendezvous, and even Blaise had claimed to have done it, but he had never believed the tales… or at least not until now. He decided that he would pop his head up and have a glance at who it was, and then have a good laugh about whoever it was with Blaise the next time he saw him.

Tentatively, he climbed the last few stairs and he poked his head out to look at the couple. His eyes took a second to adjust to the low evening light and then he saw the pair silhouetted against the sunset and instantly wished he hadn't.

They were in a compromising (and very exotic, thought Draco) position and both were completely naked. But it wasn't the unusual position, or the naked man in front of him that startled Draco; it was who it was and who he was shagging.

It was Dean Thomas, one of those Gryffindor arseholes, who Draco knew vaguely from the many classes he unfortunately shared with the Gryffindors, and he was currently nude behind a very enthusiastic Daphne Greengrass. She was biting her lip and she had her eyes closed. As Draco tried very hard not to feel violently ill at the appalling sight before him, he realised he had hesitated on the stairs a second to long. Daphne's eyes shot open and flew over to him, and through the arousal clouding her features, horrified comprehension dawned on her face. She screamed and tried to cover herself up a little.

"Malfoy!"

Dean nearly jumped out of his skin and realisation and embarrassment flooded his features.

"Get the fuck out of here!" Daphne cried, and he obliged running so fast down the stairs that he nearly fell and broke his neck. Trying desperately to keep calm, he stood in the corridor with his back against the wall, attempting to process what he had just witnessed. He vowed never to set foot in the Astronomy Tower again not now he had more awful memories to associate with it.

Why was nothing in his life ever straightforward?

As if he didn't have enough stuff to feel shit about, he now had to figure out what to do after seeing Blaise's girlfriend having sex with someone who was very clearly not Blaise. He needed to have words with Daphne.

He stood against the wall for half an hour listening intently to hear if anyone was coming down the tower stairs. Eventually, he heard hasty footsteps which were followed by the sounds of kissing, and a whisper so quiet that Draco would have missed it if he hadn't been listening so intently.

"Wait here for a little while after I go, okay? I'm so sorry we have to keep doing this. I'm sorry."

There was a silence which was then followed by more sounds of kissing. Draco tried to contain his anger and shrunk further into the growing shadows.

"Owl me tomorrow?"

Yet more kissing, and then a cautious Daphne swept down the stairs and into the corridor, looking surreptitiously around her. He paused for a couple of seconds then made his move.

"Do you want to explain to me what the fuck I just saw?" he hissed viciously, stepping in front of her and blocking her path. Her face flushed guiltily.

"Not here," she replied looking around once more. There was no-one else about but she grabbed him and led him into a secluded hallway near some Arithmancy classrooms.

"What the hell was that?" he asked. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling incredibly stressed. His walk was supposed to make him feel better, not add to his troubles. Daphne didn't directly answer him.

"Please don't tell Blaise."

"How can I not tell him? I can't keep something this terrible from him! You're _his_ girlfriend- you've been seeing him since the holidays! The only person you should be screwing is him, not some random Gryffindor!" He couldn't believe that it was _him _of all people who was giving Daphne a lecture on morals and honesty. Her eyes were glistening. "Don't you dare cry, like you're the victim in all this? You're a liar and a cheat! I have to tell Blaise. He's my best friend and he deserves to know what you're really like." He attempted to leave but Daphne caught his arm.

"Don't!" she squeaked. "Just… just let me explain."

Draco sighed heavily, wrenching his arm from her grip. He scowled at her.

"You have thirty seconds."

"Dean isn't just some silly fling. I love him." He scoffed and she scowled. "I do! We've been dating in secret since halfway through sixth year-"

"But you were hooking up with Blaise all summer!" he interrupted angrily.

"Keep your voice down!" she whispered, terrified, and she looked around again in fear. There was a sound, almost like a footstep, and both were silent. They didn't hear anything after another few seconds, and Daphne continued.

"Let me finish… I've been seeing Dean since last year. We both had detentions with McGonagall for not finishing a Transfiguration essay and then we started talking a bit, and then we became friends, and then after a while-"

"Spare me the gruesome details," he spat bitterly. "So why are you sleeping with both of them? Unless you just enjoy whoring yourself out at the top of towers?" His harsh words caused her to hang her head in shame and she started crying. Draco didn't care if she was upset; she deserved all the sadness she got for being so cold-hearted.

"Dean's a Muggleborn- you know what my parents would do if they found out. He wasn't even supposed to come back to Hogwarts this year and we tried to end things over summer but it was too hard. So he came back even though the Dark Lord could take over any day now… and if he does, Dean's going have to go on the run. Plus if they find out that he's 'corrupted' a Pureblood they'll make him a priority. I don't want to lose him… I can't lose him."

She choked as though the idea was physically painful. Draco was repulsed.

"So while I thought Dean and I were over my mother tried to set me up with Blaise… you know the deal, a convenient arranged marriage to preserve the bloodline." She pulled a face through her tears. "And I still missed Dean but I had to pretend that I liked Blaise to make my mother happy. But then Dean and I got back together but I couldn't get out of my thing with Blaise because it would have been too suspicious. I didn't have a choice. There's probably no way I'll be able to be with Dean properly after Hogwarts so I have to take what I can get now, and then at least I'll have Blaise." She sobbed harshly. "We'll probably end up married with kids," she said in disgust.

"So you're using Blaise as a back-up?" Draco cried. He couldn't believe how selfish she was being. "Do you know how he feels about you? He's pretty much head over heels in love with you! You bitch, how could you lead him on like that?"

"I have to!" Daphne wailed. "You of all people know what's expected of me! But if Blaise really does love me… you can't tell him about Dean. I like Blaise but I don't love him back. If he finds out I'm cheating on him it'll break his heart-"

"Don't pretend like you want me to lie to him for his own good," retorted Draco contemptuously. "You just don't want people to know that you're fucking a Mudblood and lose everything. You're asking this to save your own skin."

Daphne looked away from his angry glare.

"But… as much as I would love to reveal what a selfish slut you are for hurting him… I'm his friend. I don't want to see him broken. So I won't tell him-" Daphne looked at him with relief in her watery gaze "-as long as you swear that you'll end it with one of them before Christmas, or you tell him about it. If you don't, I will.

She stared at him as if unsure of what to do and then nodded.

"Thank you."

"I'm not doing this for you so don't bother thanking me."

He glared at her with thinly veiled revulsion and then without saying anything else she ran off. Draco stood alone in the almost darkness for a second. Why was there always something waiting around the corner to fuck his life up and stress him out more? He wished it wasn't this difficult. He knew he should tell Blaise the truth because in the long run, if he found out he'd just be hurt more, but Draco couldn't bear to be the messenger of such awful news and see Blaise as upset as he would be. In truth he was being a little selfish in this, just like Daphne was.

He decided that he'd had enough walking for one night and that he would return to his room and try to get an early night- if he could sleep at all. Turning around he ran his hand through his hair once more, when a figure stepped out of the pooling shadows to his left. He started and straining his eyes he was able to make out the face. It was Theo.

Instantly, Draco felt panicked. How long had Theo been hidden in the shadows and what had he heard? Did he know what he had just promised Daphne? His stomach dropped unpleasantly and his mouth went dry, but he tried to walk casually in Theo's direction as though nothing was wrong. With another horrific lurch in his abdomen he saw as he got closer to him that Theo was smirking at him. He was leaning casually on the wall.

Face blank, Draco swaggered level with him. Torches magically flared into life all of a sudden in the brackets on the walls, and Theo looked quite sinister in the flickering light.

"Having an evening stroll, are we?" he asked, sounding amused.

"Something like that," he replied nonchalantly as he walked past Theo, trying hard not to seem worried. He couldn't look at him. He felt sick.

"If you're looking for somewhere to go, you should head up to the Astronomy Tower."

Draco stopped in his tracks.

"From what I hear you can see some mind-blowing things at the top."

Resuming his steps, Draco felt his innards twist as though he'd been winded and he heard Theo chuckle. The smug bastard must have heard. He tried to convince himself that Theo had only mentioned the Tower out of coincidence and was purely referring to the views of the grounds over the parapets, but he knew in his heart that Theo had heard most, if not all, of his conversation with Daphne. And as they were still not on the best of terms there was every possibility that he might tell Blaise. Hopefully though, thought Draco, given that Theo tended to stay out of other's business, he might not. He was sure that tomorrow he would find out whether Theo had stayed silent one way or another.

Draco walked slowly through the school, still aiming roughly for his room but knowing it was pointless even returning. There was no way he'd be getting any sleep tonight.

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><p><strong>Every time you review Draco gets sexier, I swear.<strong>


	11. Fight

**A/n - Once more, my co-writer, Nicole (finally her name is revealed, though it was never really much of a secret) and I must apologise... still no Gred and Forge. But fear not! They will make an appearence next chapter! In the meantime, we hope you enjoy this little chapter, which is regrettably a bit short, but I didn't really have a choice when sorting tonight's upload, as this is the natural cut off point. **

**Also; this is the regular reminder to review... I don't care if you've reviewed once, twice, a million times or never before... Please review now! We like to know what you like! **

**That's it, enough of this A/N. **

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><p>Hermione forced herself to eat the stew she'd spooned so liberally onto her plate, all the while struggling to keep her eyes open. It was a wonder that she had not already fallen asleep with her head in her food, and she had absolutely no idea how she was still functioning at all. She had barely gotten three hours sleep last night because she'd had so much on her mind, both with her Head Girl duties piling up and her personal life. Not only had seven people approached her in the past week demanding she change the rounds schedules because of homework or Quidditch or something equally stupid, another four people had not so politely asked her to change their partners too. The night before she'd been up until the early hours of the morning finishing a new schedule, only to be told this morning that Hannah Abbott couldn't patrol on Thursdays, disrupting the revised timetable entirely. Hermione had had severe difficulty trying not to hex her for making her life harder.<p>

Also, she'd become aware that there was some stupid rumour circulating the school that she and Malfoy were an item. She'd ignored it, but that didn't mean she hadn't noticed the whispers and the glances and the giggles that followed her to classes and to meals. Malfoy himself hadn't mentioned the gossip at all; in fact, he'd said nothing to Hermione since she'd been caught listening to his row with Pansy on Monday. He'd been quiet and cold during their last patrol and had barely even looked at her, though she supposed that wasn't totally terrible given how much of an arse he was. To top it all, Ginny was now refusing to speak to her because Hermione had snapped at her over breakfast, demanding that she stop babbling about rubbish as Hermione had _real _issues. Ginny had sworn viciously at her, and she was now sat with Lavender and Parvati throwing Hermione vicious looks every so often. Clearly, Ginny was being incredibly immature, but even so Hermione had lost her only real friend over some silly bickering.

Hastily, she gulped down the last spoonful of her food, barely tasting it, before heaving her heavy body out of her seat and walking towards the doors. Perhaps, she thought wearily, she'd be able to nap for an hour before redoing the already rewritten prefect timetable. However, about halfway across the hall she noticed with a jolt that Theo was also making his way to the doors. Hermione sped up but so did he and they arrived at the entrance at the same time. For a fraction of a second they awkwardly made eye contact and then Hermione attempted to duck out of the doors. Theo caught her by the arm, which made her stomach flutter.

"Hermione, wait. Please, we need to talk about all of this. You've ignored me for weeks-"

"Not now. I promise we will talk soon," she said, laying a hand on his that was latched on her wrist. At the contact his grip loosened enough for her to pull her hand a little reluctantly out of his grasp. "Two more weeks is all I'm asking for and then I'll be able to talk to you. I know it sounds ridiculous," she said when Theo sighed, "but I need to clear my head."

He nodded meekly. "Ok. I can wait. But just so you know… I do still like you." Then he swished out of the hall, his robes flurrying behind him.

Hermione let out a relieved breath, glad that at least Theo understood and it was one less thing for her to worry about. She was thinking longingly of her bed and was about to leave too when she was roughly whirled around and came face to face with a very angry Pansy Parkinson.

"Is Draco not enough for you, you disgusting little Mudblood? Are you trying to seduce Theo too?"

She stared at her, not initially understanding her words through her exhaustion. She did notice however that a few students at house tables nearby had stopped eating and were looking at her and Pansy.

"What about Blaise, is he next? Or Crabbe and Goyle maybe? Are you trying to make your way through all the Slytherins?" A vein was pulsing dangerously near Pansy's temple and she was almost bright red.

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about?" asked Hermione in confused disbelief. A few Ravenclaws to her right giggled. "I have absolutely no idea what you're suggesting."

Pansy ignored her. "Gryffindors not good enough for you? Are the Ravenclaws next on your list? Or do you just have a taste for men way out of your league?"

"Pansy, you aren't making any sense!"

"You've had him in your sights since the first week, ever since you saw us in the corridor before your silly little meeting at the start of the year. I knew you were jealous. And now you've split us up!" Pansy looked utterly deranged.

"Will you please explain to me what you mean?" pleaded Hermione once more, desperately looking over to the staff table, however all of the teachers had their attention focussed on Dumbledore, who appeared to be telling a joke. Even more students were now watching her and Pansy's encounter.

"I mean, keep your filthy Mudblood hands off Draco or I'll curse you into oblivion!" She pulled out her wand and pointed it at Hermione for emphasis. Even though she had been numbed by tiredness, Hermione was still livid.

"How dare you threaten me!" said Hermione indignantly. "I have no intention of getting my hands _on_ Malfoy in the first place, you idiot."

Apparently, Pansy did not appreciate being called an idiot. The vein was still pulsing horribly and Hermione was surprised it hadn't burst. Her face turned more murderous and she raised her wand higher.

"Don't you insult me, you ugly cow! Stay away from my Draco!"

Hermione was furious. "But he isn't 'your Draco,' is he? Not from what I heard the other day."

She knew it was a low blow and that she was only stooping to Pansy's level but she was too angry to care. By now, they had attracted quite a crowd, mostly of Slytherins, who were surrounding the two girls as though watching some kind of sport. Several people were staring at Hermione open mouthed as though they couldn't believe she was engaging in an argument. Lots of girls were laughing, some boys were whispering what looked like lewd suggestions to their friends, and she noticed Malfoy stood relatively close by, frowning.

"Take that back!" Pansy screamed.

Hermione knew she was in dangerous territory but she didn't back down.

"No! You're deluding yourself! I don't fancy Malfoy; he's a vile, arrogant pig! But even if I did, what would it matter to you? I heard what he said to you- he doesn't want you! And now look at you- you're a mess!"

Suddenly, Hermione's head was thrown back and there was a large communal gasp and a few hoots of laughter from the spectators as she felt Pansy's hand connect with her cheek. It appeared she had thrown her wand away in favour of physical violence. Face stinging and pink, she stared angrily at Pansy with fire in her eyes. Just as she was about to retaliate, Malfoy strode over and placed himself between them. Still the teachers had not looked over, and if Hermione hadn't been so mad she would have regarded this as incredibly odd.

"What the hell, Pansy?" he asked. He had his back to Hermione and she had to peek around his frame to view their exchange.

"Why so defensive, Draco? I knew it!" she shrieked hysterically. "You have a crush on Granger!"

There was a low rumbling of whispers from the onlookers as Malfoy replied heatedly.

"Bloody hell, just drop it! I don't fancy Granger!"

"In case you hadn't noticed, he hates me," added Hermione angrily, as several watching Slytherins stared at Malfoy disgustedly with narrowed eyes. She was coming to her own defence as much as she was to his; she couldn't stand the idea of anyone thinking that she would stoop so low as to go out with Malfoy.

"Oh he hates you, does he? Then why is he stood in front of you like a fucking shield or something?"

More mutterings from the Slytherins, whilst everyone else watched dumbstruck. Malfoy groaned.

"I'm stood in front of her because if you hex her you'll be expelled! You think that McGonagall will go easy on you if you curse her favourite student? Not likely. I'm looking out for _you,_ Pans, not her!"

For some reason, Hermione was a little insulted.

"Oh really? Then why are you holding her?"

Shocked silence met her words as everyone's eyes swivelled to Malfoy's right hand, which Hermione now noticed for the first time was resting softly on her waist. This could be bad. Quick as a flash, she shot a filthy look at Pansy and pretended to start forward, as though she was going to hit her.

"He's holding me _back_, because he knows if he didn't, you'd be in the Hospital Wing! And I'm sure you wouldn't want any more damage done to your ugly face, would you, you irritating bitch?"

Hermione was quite proud of her acting skills and she felt the swearing had given her performance a lot of believability- the other students had certainly believed her, because they were all staring at her looking half impressed and half shocked. Pansy seemed to have been convinced; she threw herself in Hermione's direction and had to be restrained by a nearby Millicent Bulstrode and Hermione saw out of the corner of her eye that Malfoy was smirking a little. His hand left her waist and Pansy was led away in angry tears by Millicent and a few other people. In the ensuing chaos as every onlooker returned to their seats or began chattering excitedly about what they had just witnessed, Malfoy took the opportunity to quickly drag Hermione, unseen, out of the Great Hall. His hand was tight around her wrist and once outside her pushed her against the wall of the Entrance Hall. Without letting go of her hand, he placed enough pressure on her to pin her to the wall so she couldn't wriggle away, and pressed her hand against her chest.

"You ought to be a bit more careful when you're dealing with Pansy in future. I might not be there to save your skin."

It was the first time he'd spoken to her in a few days, and she was still filled with residual anger so she didn't even question why he'd all of a sudden decided to acknowledge her existence.

"Get lost Malfoy. I didn't need you to 'protect' me. I can hold my own against her," she said defiantly, though in reality she had to admit that she had been quite glad he had stepped in when he had and prevented her from doing something stupid.

"Of course you can," he said condescendingly. "Oh, and I know what you were doing back there."

Hermione was confused. What had she been doing?

"Don't think that your little performance back then makes us even finally. Just because you agreed with me doesn't mean you defended me. They're two different things. You still owe me," he growled, pressing her a little tighter to the wall, which reminded her of the time he'd threatened her in the common room. "You won't owe me any more when _I _say so, got it?"

"Fine," she said aggressively, "but if Pansy ever tries anything like that again, I swear I will not restrain myself, so you better talk to her and tell her to stay away from me."

Malfoy leaned in dangerously close.

"And if I decide you have no right to tell me what to do, and so I don't warn her?"

"Well then, you can say goodbye to your Slytherin slut because the fight she will no doubt start definitely won't end in her favour," she growled, summoning the strength to push Malfoy away.

As she stormed off up the main staircase desperate to finally get to bed, she heard Malfoy muttering Cleaning Charms on himself and she could have screamed. What she didn't notice was how bored and irritated he sounded when he did it- almost like he didn't really care.

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><p><strong>Just a little note; I'm aware some of you may find Hermione's behaviour in this chapter a little OOC but Nicole and I think that given her stress about Malfoystress about Head Girl stuff/stress about Ginny/general exhaustion, this is how Hermione would have reacted to Pansy- she'd be at her wits end. Just our opinion :) this is as out of character as she'll ever get as far as we're concerned but just a heads up for you. What do you think? Let us know. :)  
>Review please?<strong>


	12. Hallowe'en

**A/N: Hello again! This is going to be a long(ish) but VERY IMPORTANT A/N, so if you want to skip over it feel free, though I'd advise you come back to it :)**

**A few things: To all of you lovely people out there getting a little antsy, we love you and we're sorry. We know you're desperate for some good ol' Dramione loving, but we need you to hold on because you've still got a little while longer to wait. What you read is miles behind what we've typed and we promise you there's some good stuff coming your way; good things come to those who wait, and thank you for waiting with us :)**

**Secondly: This chapter is kind of a two-parter. Something will happen this chapter (or has happened if you've come back to this A/N) and its partially to do with the love pentagon we mentioned on the first chapter. Draco's reaction (coming next chapter) may ease a little of your tension.**

**Thirdly: As for actual action, we'll just say 'Christmas Eve.' It seems distant but in terms of chapters, it actually isn't. _And _we promise that in the New Year at Hogwarts, the pace picks up quite a bit. **

**Finally- thank you so much for the reviews, as always. Please continue to review because they make us smile and do happy little dances, and until next week, we apologise again and we leave you with Gred and Forge...**

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><p>While only seconds before Draco had been heartily devouring his bacon, the moment Blaise sat down beside him his mood dampened considerably and he lost much of his appetite. Unconsciously he shifted a little away from Blaise and stabbed his food moodily. <em>And today had seemed like it might actually be a good day, <em>he thought.

"Happy Hallowe'en, ferret! Very convincing costume. I almost didn't recognise you with that troll mask on," he grinned.

Draco half-heartedly chuckled and flicked bacon at him. Since that night at the Astronomy Tower Draco had found it very difficult to be around Blaise, knowing that he was keeping something so awful from him, yet knowing that if he said anything that Blaise would be heartbroken or would attempt not to believe Draco because he wouldn't want to lose Daphne. At the very least, his deception hadn't been revealed by Theo who had thankfully said not one word to Blaise it seemed. He did occasionally catch Draco's eye and grin maliciously, making him feel even more uneasy than he already did; he had a sneaking suspicion that Theo was just biding his time. If he was or he wasn't, Draco decided, he was fine for the time being and that was all he could hope for.

"So what are you doing today?" he asked, forcing his tone to sound friendly, and not as though he'd rather be anywhere but with Blaise.

"Oh, nothing much. I'm going into Hogsmeade since everyone else is, but I'm spending the day with Daphne." As it did now as a reflex, his stomach twisted up at the mention of _her_ name. He froze up a little bit, though Blaise didn't seem to notice. "She's seemed a bit down lately so I offered to take her to Madam Puddifoot's to cheer her up." Draco was trying hard not to shake with anger. "Luckily for me she said she'd rather just go to the Three Broomsticks. I'm hoping she might feel a bit happier at the feast tonight. She keeps saying she's fine but I can tell that she's not. If she wasn't so moody lately I might have tried to convince her to sneak off near the Shrieking Shack with me- I've always wanted to have sex outdoors."

While Blaise laughed at his own crudeness, Draco's guts twisted horribly and he resolved to stay far away from the pub all day.

"What about you, up to anything much?"

Blaise stared at him while munching on a piece of toast. Draco could barely meet his eye but still tried to act normal.

"Nothing really. I need to replace that Hangover Potion I had. I used it all after that time in the Common Room last month."

Blaise laughed. "Oh Merlin, that was a good night. Drama and drunkenness all rolled into one. I was a mess afterwards." He grinned. "We should definitely do it again soon, it was hilarious."

"Yeah," he replied noncommittally. A long pause followed his words.

"Have I upset you or something?" asked Blaise, sounding uncharacteristically concerned. "You've just not been yourself around me lately; you've been avoiding me like I have dragonpox."

Draco looked at his friend's worried face. Surely he couldn't leave him as anxious as he was, afraid that he'd in some way offended Draco somehow. He had to tell him now, even if it would hurt him, and fuck his promise to Daphne…

"Listen Blaise-"

"Pumpkin pie!" Daphne cried, sashaying over to plant herself on Blaise's lap.

"Sugar lump!" he replied, before she captured his lips in a kiss that Draco knew was a lie. He turned away and angrily stabbed his bacon whilst trying not to vomit at the horrendous, mushy act Daphne was putting on that Blaise was so eagerly reciprocating. Daphne opened her eyes mid-kiss and stared at him and he shook his head at her in disgust.

Glancing across the room, he saw Dean Thomas sat at the half empty Gryffindor table, shaking with supressed rage, staring straight at Daphne and Blaise so obviously that Draco was surprised that he was the only one who had noticed; even Seamus Finnigan, who seemed attached to Dean at the hip, hadn't noticed, and was instead wolfing down breakfast. Next to him, Blaise and Daphne broke apart and she looked at him with fake affection. Draco could see now how fixed her smile was and the dead look in her eyes that made it so starkly clear to him that she did not feel the same as Blaise did. It was the same look his father had now whenever he looked at Draco or his mother.

"Ready to go?" she asked with feigned enthusiasm. Blaise nodded and they got up.

"We'll talk later, yeah?"

Draco nodded, feeling terrible and knowing that they wouldn't. Blaise laced his fingers through Daphne's and the pair of them walked off hand in hand; Draco saw Daphne turn back and give him a look that told him plainly that she'd known that the moment before her arrival Draco had been about to go back on his promise. As she looked away, he saw he gaze shift in Dean's direction and her loving demeanour slip for a second to be replaced with hurt and remorse. He watched them leaving before returning to the remains of his breakfast, playing with it rather than eating it.

* * *

><p>A light breeze rippled through the trees and through Hermione's hair, playing gently with her curls. Though the sun shone down brightly it was not particularly warm and she wrapped her red and gold scarf a little more tightly around her neck. She walked at a brisk pace towards the school gates feeling spectacularly happy- the happiest she'd been in weeks. Today, she decided, would be the day when everything would start to go right again. Spotting Hagrid and Fang on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, she waved merrily and he waved back. Her feet crunched over the fallen leaves that were dry for once as for the past few days the rain had ceased, and she and many other pupils made their way towards Hogsmeade. She passed through the gate where Professor Flitwick was checking off names of students going into Hogsmeade, and was double checking them for any concealed Dark items. It was another reminder of the state of the world outside Hogwarts which again made Hermione feel petty and silly for worrying about little things in her life.<p>

Then again, after a rocky start to October, things had definitely improved after her row with Pansy. Malfoy had barely spoken to her since then and that was just how she liked him- silent. He had seemed in a particularly foul mood though Hermione didn't care as long as it was keeping him out of her way. Pansy too had said nothing to her since. In addition, she and Theo had been on much better terms and had reached a point where if they met a corridor they could smile at each other rather than hurry off; it wasn't much but it was some form of improvement, and Hermione hoped if things today went well, they could progress back to the almost-friendship they'd had before their first patrol.

Unfortunately, Ginny still wasn't talking to her, but at the very least, Hermione had been able to get on top of her immense workload as Head Girl, which had doubled when communication with Malfoy had stopped due to his awful mood. Not only had she got on top of her work, but she had gotten some well needed rest, and she knew that she would make today a good day starting by working out some of the remaining kinks in her personal life.

She had by now reached the village, but it was still hours before she was supposed to meet Fred and George, so she decided to do a little shopping. Being in Hogsmeade without Harry and Ron was a new thing and was almost enough to make her want to return back to the castle and cry, but instead she decided not to let it bother her today and so for once she tried to forget about them. She didn't really know where to go. She did have a quick wander around Zonko's, mainly just for something to do rather than because she actually wanted anything, and she had to leave when she became overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of so many students in such a small space.

She stepped back out into the village, wondering what to do to kill time. As she was in dire need of a new quill (given that most of hers had been ruined when her bag had broken and soaked them in ink) she headed to Scrivenshaft's Quill shop.

While she was browsing various types of ink, vivid red hair caught her eye and she saw Ginny at the other end of the shop examining some spell-checking quills. Without pausing to think, Hermione wandered over and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, hi," said Ginny guardedly when she turned and saw Hermione.

"Hi."

There was a pause while Ginny looked at her feet and Hermione tried to find the right words.

"Listen, I'm sorry for snapping at you like I did. I was just really tired and irritable and stressed. I don't like it when we fight. You're all I have at the minute," said Hermione with a small smile. When Ginny beamed back hers grew.

"I'm sorry too. I've been awful, I know I have. Forgive me?"

They smiled at each other and hugged, and then queued up together to pay for their goods. Hermione felt elated at how easy it had been to get back on good terms with her friend.

Exiting the shop Ginny flipped her hair over her shoulders and pulled on her gloves as the breeze had picked up a little since earlier. Hermione's scarf whipped about in the wind.

"I'm going to go to Gladrag's to look at some robes… You coming?" asked Ginny.

"No thanks," she replied, "I have some stuff to do."

She was being deliberately vague; though she knew it was a little mean seeing as Ginny was their sister, she really didn't want Ginny tagging along to see the twins when she desperately needed their confidential advice.

"I'll meet you back at Hogwarts for the feast though?"

With a departing hug, she and Ginny parted ways.

Having no real need of anything else, she just decided to peruse the local shops while she had the opportunity. She went into Dervish and Banges first to browse the wizarding wares, but had to leave when a shelf full of Sneakoscopes reminded her painfully of Harry and the pair he'd hidden in his uncle's socks during their train ride in third year. It only took silly, vague little memories like that to trigger an acute sadness in her these days.

Then she visited the book shop and spent a good hour and a half looking through the vast array of volumes. She was quite surprised to see Malfoy wandering through the maze of shelves and crooked stacks of books as she'd never seen him with a book- he didn't strike her as someone who read. Still, he stayed in the shop all the time she was there, though she didn't realise until she was paying for several books she had picked up and saw him curled up in one of the battered armchairs within the shop, reading a thick novel, surrounded by several other piles of books. He was biting his lip as his eyes skimmed over the words and his brow was gently furrowed. It was another one of those moments when Hermione realised that for all the assumptions she had made about him, she really did not know Malfoy very well at all. When she walked past him as she made her way to the door, he looked up and they nodded curtly at each other before he returned to his page.

Bags in hand, she left the little shop to find that the sunshine of the morning had disappeared and had been replaced with bleak grey clouds. It was colder now than it had been when she'd left the castle and she pulled her robes closer to her as she walked through the picturesque high street, noticing for the first time that like in Diagon Alley, many buildings were boarded up and empty. Her mood dipped a little and a chill began to set into her skin so she decided to duck into the nearest of the open, brightly lit shops, which happened to be Honeydukes.

Stacks of fudge, platters of coconut ice, shelves of sweets and slabs of chocolate surrounded her and she was overwhelmed with nostalgia, feeling exactly the same bewilderment and joy as the first time she'd walked into the place. It hadn't changed even with the onset of the war, and she happily looked over all the confectionary, taking in the giddiness of the younger students, for whom this was their first foray into the dazzling sugar heaven of the little sweetshop. She moved closer and closer to the back of the shop, pausing occasionally to pick up a bag of Fizzing Whizbees, some Peppermint Imps, a toffee or two, though she had to hastily rush past the Toothflossing Stringmints because they reminded her too much of her parents. Then she spied her favourites, Liquorice Wands, and ambled over to pick up a few.

The shop was utterly packed, mostly with fourth and third years, and so she struggled to keep out of everyone's way. She ended up rather boxed in a corner and so she had to push her way (very apologetically) to the counter to pay. She'd been stood in the queue for a few seconds before she noticed that she was stood behind Theo. Taking this as an opportunity to fix something else, she poked him in the back. He span around, disoriented and looked at her a little awkwardly when he saw her.

"Hi!" she said brightly. "I just wanted to let you know that by this evening I'll be able to talk to you again. I just have one last thing to do first. Will you meet me in the Entrance Hall tonight before the feast?"

"Ok," he said, smiling tentatively, before turning back around as though he didn't know what else to do.

She smiled at him again when they both left Honeydukes and she watched him walk into a similarly packed Zonko's. She was considering going back in again herself, purely for something more to do but it was growing colder still and the clouds overhead were thickening, looking heavy with rain. It was about half one, and so she decided to just drop into the Three Broomsticks and warm up with a Butterbeer while she waited for the twins.

To her surprise, when she entered the warm, packed pub to the delightful tinkling of the bell over the door, there was a redhead already sat at the bar with their back to her and she knew instantly that it was one of either Fred or George. Happily, she made her way towards him and sat on a stool beside him.

"Hi!" she said excitedly.

The redhead turned to look at her, and she didn't need to see that he had both his ears to know that it was Fred. His eyes lit up and he reached out to pull her into an embrace.

"Hey Hermione!"

When he released her, she noticed a few empty glasses already in front of him.

"You're early," she remarked. "How long have you been here?"

"Oh, about half an hour."

Hermione laughed. "Why so prompt? Have you been looking in Zonko's?"

"Something like that," he smiled.

He ordered two Butterbeers from Madam Rosmerta, grabbed both of the glasses when they were served and then guided Hermione to some empty seats by the roaring fire- her favourite spot. Hermione thanked Fred for the drink and took a large gulp of the liquid, feeling it fill her with warmth.

"Where's George?" she asked. Feeling a little hot from the drink, she shed her coat and unwound her Gryffindor scarf. Fred too took off his outdoor clothing, and she noticed with a smile that he was wearing his old house scarf also.

"Oh, he's back in Diagon Alley. Someone has to keep the shop running. We have a couple of assistants, but we wouldn't trust them as far as we can throw them… and I guarantee you, we couldn't throw Melanie far at all. We think she might be part troll." He took a swig from his glass as Hermione chuckled to herself. She'd very much come to appreciate the twins humour over the summer. "Did you like the letter?"

"I did, the glitter was an excellent touch." She laughed. "I was still finding it in my hair after a week though."

Fred chuckled, and then grew a little more serious. "So down to business now. What's troubling you? Your letter was pretty intense."

Hermione paused thoughtfully.

"Hmm… Well, you remember in the holidays when the boys left to…" She paused, aware of how many people were sat nearby. "…Well, you know what they went to do." Fred nodded. "Just before they left Ron told me he wanted to say goodbye to me specially and... and..."

She stopped, slightly embarrassed.

"Yeah, you kissed. Me and George know." He looked amused.

Hermione stared. "How?"

"Because by the time he said goodbye to the rest of us he had a bloody stupid grin on his face and his ears were pink. Plus, you were as red as a tomato. You didn't have to be a genius to work it out. Even Mum knows."

"Oh…" Hermione blushed a little.

"Thank Merlin he didn't try to say goodbye to _us_ specially…" said Fred with a shudder and a grin. "But what's this got to do with anything?"

"Oh… erm… yes," said Hermione, shaking herself. "So, Ron and I kissed. But then he left without saying anything else, and now I don't know where I stand with him. Am I his girlfriend? Was it just a kiss? It's caused a fair bit of confusion."

"Why?" asked Fred slyly, as though he already knew what Hermione was about to say.

"I kissed someone else."

Fred whistled softly. "Anyone we know?" He was still smirking, and he winked at her.

"Not unless you know Theodore Nott."

"Isn't his dad a Death Eater? Wow. You really can pick them Hermione." He didn't sound angry, just amused. "From a first-class prat to a possible Death Eater. He's a Slytherin, I take it?"

She nodded, embarrassed.

"I always knew you had a thing for snakes," he said roguishly, sniggering to himself when Hermione blushed deeper at the innuendo. "But honestly, if Ron didn't explicitly say that you were his girlfriend then for one he's a total idiot, but still, you shouldn't feel guilty for kissing this Nott bloke."

Hermione bit her lip. "But Ron does like me, doesn't he?"

"You could say that. If by 'like you' you mean that he writes you love letters then hides them under his bed."

Hermione frowned. "He writes me love letters?" It didn't sound like Ron at all.

"Probably," Fred grinned.

"So, if he does like me, I can't just go round kissing anyone I like, can I? I can't do that to him."

"Can't you?" he counteracted, unusually serious. "Be honest- do you like him?"

She scoffed. "Of course I do. I love him-"

"Yes, but do you fancy him?"

Hermione was startled by Fred's question. Did she fancy Ron? He was lovely, and sweet and kind… but then again he did have a quick temper, foul mood swings and a tendency to be a little bit dim. He was one of her closest friends and she knew if she gave him the chance he'd treat her well. But if she really thought about it and was honest with herself, really, truly, starkly honest… she wasn't really attracted to him.

He wasn't fantastically physically appealing; the sight of him did not give her butterflies and his touch did not make her skin burn with desire. Their kiss had been pleasant (and long overdue of course) but hadn't triggered any kind of fireworks; in fact there hadn't even been as much as a spark- at least not for her. The more she thought about it the more she realised that she'd only gravitated towards him because Harry had Ginny and it made sense for her to end up with one of her two male best friends. It was all too… convenient. To enter into a relationship with Ron would be to settle for him and that was fair to neither of them. Hermione was sick and tired of settling instead of doing what made her happy.

She looked at Fred over the rim of her glass, which she'd raised to her mouth without realising.

"No."

"There you go then. I know it might feel bad to upset Ron, but if you don't really want to be with him then you shouldn't feel bad for doing what makes you happy. Ron will get over it eventually."

"I suppose," said Hermione.

"You shouldn't settle for anyone because you're worried about their feelings." It was as though Fred was reading her mind. "You don't need to." She was struck by his unusual show of sensitivity. "Now forget about Ron. Let me tell you about some new products me and George are designing."

Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon laughing at Fred's tales of life in the business world, and he spent a good half hour moaning about Melanie and the other shop girls. He had done a fantastic job of cheering her up; her guilty conscience had been cleared, her heart was light and carefree and she felt truly wonderful for the first time since the end of summer. She felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from her.

At around five o'clock, after several more Butterbeers and when Hermione had a sore stomach from creasing up so much with laughter, she decided she should probably make her way back to the castle so she could meet Theo before the feast. She stood up.

"I should get going," she said a little regretfully. She'd been enjoying herself. Fred stood too.

"Really?" he said, sounding disappointed. "So soon?"

"I've been here for over three hours Fred!" she laughed. She pulled on her scarf and cloak and fastened it. "I had a brilliant time though."

"I did too." He looked at her a little sadly. "We should meet up again though."

"Definitely. There's another weekend scheduled a little before Christmas."

Fred nodded.

"Thank you so much for today," she added sincerely.

"You're very welcome," he replied kindly, pulling her into a hug.

His body was warm and he smelled exactly like the peppermint smoke that had burst from the letter he had sent her; his arms were strong and comforting around her. After a few seconds he pulled back but did not release her from his hold. His hands slipped a little lower, so that they were more around her waist, and he looked at her intently. There was something different to his gaze; not the normal, cheeky glint he and George both had, but something more intense; something more raw. His smile faded to a look of pure nervousness and his eyes dropped to her lips. Before she knew what was happening, he had lowered his face and crashed his lips to hers.


	13. Red

**A/N- Oh I'm a tease, sorry :) Such a long wait for you guys. **

**THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE AMAZING RESPONSE TO THE LAST CHAPTER. Sorry for the over-enthusiastic capital-ness, but it was literally amazing. Please continue to review :)**

**Also, I just got back from watching The Hunger Games; I loved it and cried my way through it. I love Peeta! Bless him... Anyway...**

**Here is the next chapter... there isn't much to say here, other than me and Nicole love his chapter and hope you do too. **

* * *

><p>Draco was bored. He had actually been quite looking forward to today, to the chance to get out of the school for a while, but when he'd finally gone outside and realised he was going to spend all day alone, Hogsmeade lost quite a lot of its appeal.<p>

Not just that, but he'd been in Hogsmeade all day and in most of the shops. He'd bought his Hangover Potion ages ago, and apart from his time in the bookshop spent reading then purchasing a vast quantity of books, nothing in the village held any excitement for him anymore; he'd seen in too many times before. Plus, he was freezing. He hadn't been too cold this morning when he'd left the castle so he hadn't brought his cloak or scarf, but now the biting wind had picked up and the clouds had blocked out the sun it was so cold that when the wind stopped blowing for a moment or two he could see his breath misting in the air. In fact, he knew that if he could see his reflection he would see that his normally icy pale skin would be tinged with pink, and he could feel every inch of his exposed flesh stinging and tingling with the cold.

He shivered as he walked past Honeydukes with disinterest- he was no longer a boy and sweets did not really entice him anymore. What he really wanted to do was go into the pub and enjoy a warm mug of Butterbeer before heading back to the castle for the feast, but Daphne and Blaise were probably in there; he didn't think he could stand one more second of her pretending to love Blaise while his stomach churned guiltily.

He supposed he could go to the Hog's Head instead, but there was a bad crowd in there which could mean that if people saw him entering they'd think he was back on the Death Eater bandwagon, and compared to the warmth and cosiness of the Three Broomsticks just ahead of him it wasn't appealing at all. Also, it would be a cowardly thing to do, and Draco didn't think his pride would allow him to hide away from Blaise and Daphne even if his brain told him it was the easiest thing to do.

After hesitating for a second, he decided to peer into the pub and just look for Daphne and Blaise. If they weren't inside he'd go in and get a Butterbeer- or something stronger if Madam Rosmerta was feeling kind.

He strode through the dimming light of the high street towards the pub, which stood between two boarded up shops which make Draco feel a little depressed; it reminded him of the war raging outside the castle. Streetlamps had ignited overhead and the flickering flames contained inside them made the village look even more welcoming and charming than usual, even in spite of the few abandoned shops. Many students, wise enough to have brought gloves, scarves or cloaks, were now making their way back to the castle, no doubt excited for the Hallowe'en feast: the monstrous carved pumpkins; the live bats swooping around the starry ceiling; the synchronised ghost gliding Dumbledore had arranged; everything that like Hogsmeade now bored Draco. Seven years of the same old routine had gotten monotonous. In actual fact, the only reason he wanted to go was because the food at feasts was even better than the food at Hogwarts normally was.

The glass panes of the windows of the Three Broomsticks were a little small and set quite low down the side of the building, so Draco had to bend slightly to look in, trying not to fog up the glass with his breath. His eyes raked the scene inside and he scanned the area near the bar for Daphne and Blaise, then the booths against the walls, and then the little tables in front of the windows. They were near enough all deserted save for a few occupied by older students or adults who lived in the village. He didn't see the two of them and he was quite pleased. Then he looked over to the tables near the fire and something else entirely caught his eye.

If he wasn't mistaken, he could see Granger, and she was kissing someone lanky and tall with flaming red hair, who could only be a Weasley, thought Draco in disgust. For some reason, the sight made him want to punch a hole in the stupidly tiny window, and his blood boiled. He watched as Granger brought her hands up to place them on the Weasley's cheeks, and she tilted her head.

It felt as though he'd be watching the awful scene for hours before he saw Granger wrench her head back. He could now see that the redhead was one of the prankster twin Weasleys who had left a few years back in an explosion of fireworks (which he reluctantly admitted had been quite a fantastic exit), and currently he looked both horrified and embarrassed. Granger said something to him and the twin replied looking angry, and then he snatched up his cloak and stormed towards the door. It flung open and the tiny bell above it tinkled as the twin flew outside and threw on his cloak. Suddenly, Granger burst out after him. Neither noticed Draco who was staring, dumbstruck and still angry.

"Fred, please! Wait!" she called.

He turned around, his expression a mixture of hurt and anger.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go," he said coldly.

"Please, I do like you, but I was just caught a little off guard… I didn't expect it… I don't think of you like that… You're like a part of my family-" she gabbled.

"But why did you kiss me back? I'd rather you'd pushed me away and let me know straight away. You kissed me back."

Granger didn't reply. Draco clenched his fists.

"I'm going."

With a small _pop_, the Weasley disapparated.

"Shit."

Draco was surprised to hear Granger curse so bitterly. She still had her back to him and he slunk a little more into the shadows trying to contain his strange anger. He wanted to throw something or hex something or break something. Something orange.

"Hermione?"

Both she and Draco turned to see Theo emerging from the nearby post office. As if Draco wasn't pissed off enough (_for whatever reason_, he thought) - now Theo and Granger were back on talking terms?

"Are you ok? Can we talk yet?"

Granger looked at him and nodded, still not having seen Draco. _Fuck_, he thought. Was he going to have to witness them having a disgusting soppy moment?

"Good, because I need to tell you how sorry I am for kissing you. I know I upset you and I really didn't mean to. I know you and Ron kind of have a thing-"

"I don't have to be upset anymore. I can forget about Ron. I don't like him like that," she replied.

Draco did not like her tone. Then suddenly, Granger had run at Theo and flung her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Theo picked her up and pulled her close; Granger's legs swung up before he put her down and she stepped back. Draco was nearly sick and his entire body was practically itching with rage.

"I'm sorry for acting like I have done these past few weeks. I want to be friends. I want to be patrol partners with you again and then we'll see how it goes from there… if that's ok with you?"

Theo's face split into a broad grin and he took Granger's hand. That was enough for Draco. Angrily, he stormed towards the castle, leaving Theo and Granger stood alone outside The Three Broomsticks.

Overhead, thunder cracked and the rain that had been threatening since late morning began bouncing down. Thick, fat droplets quickly had Draco soaked to the skin but he didn't care. He couldn't even feel the biting cold of the howling wind anymore because of the burn of his wrath emanating from within him.

_What the fuck was she doing_? He'd just seen her snogging Fred Weasley and then no less than a minute later she had been suggesting to Theo that they could end up together. _What a whore_, thought Draco. That filthy Mudblood was playing with fire now that she had decided she wanted Theo, and needless to say Draco was not happy.

He flew into the Entrance Hall and up the staircase, dripping water as he went. He barely heard the loud chatter and laughter from the open doors of the Great Hall nearby; he needed to be alone and any slight desire he'd had to go to the feast earlier had disappeared. He had never felt so angry, never, and though he couldn't exactly work out why he felt such rage, currently he didn't care. He just wanted to throw something.

He reached his dorm in record time. Growling the password to the hissing snake, he marched inside and without pausing to think he picked up the nearest ornament- which happened to be an empty glass vase –and launched it across the room, where it smashed satisfyingly into a thousand glittering pieces. It was swiftly followed by a paperweight, two candlesticks, and the table on which they all had been stood.

Crying out, he overturned the sofa, angrily panting as he tore portraits and tapestries off the walls, much to the dismay of their subjects. He seized the wooden chess set and threw it across the room, the pieces squealing objections as they scattered like the leaves in the gale outside. He pulled out his wand and slashed all the couch cushions, the throws, the curtains, the upholstery. It was chaos, madness, total and utter anarchy. Feathers and pillow stuffing floated lazily around the room like some pathetic imitations of snow. He tore off his rain-soaked robes and threw them to the floor with a guttural, primitive roar of rage. Breathing heavily, he stood in his shirt and trousers which clung to his frame wetly, and surveyed the damage he had done. The room was a mess of broken furniture, smashed ornaments, broken candles, shattered mirrors and torn fabric but it still wasn't enough.

Yelling, Draco kicked his way through the debris before punching and kicking the stone wall without feeling the pain of his torn flesh through his adrenaline and anger.

"Malfoy!"

He quietened, his chest still heaving heavily with his residual anger, and saw a dishevelled and wet Granger stood in the doorway, staring disbelievingly at the carnage.

"What have you done?" she cried.

"What have _I _done? What have _you _done, you stupid, vile Mudblood?"

Granger looked puzzled through her shock at the sight before her. Draco flicked damp tendrils of hair out of his eyes.

"Tell me, have you always been a slut or is it just this year?"

"What are you talking about?"

"_You!_ Snogging a Weasley, then about thirty seconds later making eyes at Theo! Is one not good enough for you?"

"Were you spying on me?" she gasped in anguish.

"I didn't have to spy- you were stood clear as day in the middle of the pub with your tongue down his throat! Not exactly subtle, are you, Granger?"

She frowned. "This is none of your business! It's nothing to do with you who I do or don't snog and when! If I didn't know better I'd say you were jealous!"

The ringing accusation was met with a terrifying silence and the look on her face said that she wished she hadn't said anything. Draco nearly exploded.

"_Jealous_? Of Theo, or that blood-traitor Weasley? You really think I did all this because I'm desperate to fuck you, you vain bitch?"

She turned red.

"I'm so fucking angry because…" Why was he angry? "…Because you aren't supposed to be going anywhere near Theo! And especially not running to him after you've just been kissing someone else! What did I tell you?"

"Oh, piss off Malfoy!" she said, her temper rising too. He could see the rage in her eyes, almost a mirror of his own. "You don't own me! You don't get to control what I do! Stay out of Theo's business, stay out of mine, and if you don't like what we're doing, tough!"

She charged back to the portrait hole, pausing to glare at him hatefully. "And you're going back to patrolling with Lavender because I'm going back to being Theo's partner. Maybe that will cheer you up."

She slammed her wet cloak and scarf on the floor with a slight squelch; apparently she had only returned to drop them off. Then she stalked out of the room, looking angrier and wilder than he'd ever seen her, somehow managing to slam the portrait closed.

Draco didn't know what he felt after she left. He was still angry but that wasn't just it.

So he wasn't patrolling with her anymore. Big deal.

He sank to the floor amidst the wreck of the room, defeated. His fury slowly left him and after about half an hour of staring blankly around him he flicked his wand, returning the room to its previous state.

Now he just felt oddly empty. He would have to do his rounds with Lavender Brown again and the prospect made him feel sick. The thought of not being able to tease Granger as much, annoy her, insult her or generally have any effect on her was awful. What else would he do? He couldn't talk to Theo, he couldn't see Pansy and he didn't want to spend time with Blaise.

The horrific thing was that in just two months he had isolated himself and completely cut himself off from all of the people he used to consider friends and now, sadly, his entire life revolved around Granger and the time he spent with her, as disgusting and terrible as that was. Now that he wouldn't even have that… what would he do?

If he was being honest with himself, really, brutally honest, he knew he hadn't just been annoyed because of Theo and Granger getting friendly again; after all, he'd only gotten angry in the first place when he'd seen her with Weasley. He didn't know exactly why it had made him so furious, but it had.

He realised with a jolt why he'd suddenly felt so empty; he was actually going to miss Granger.

Holy shit.

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><p><strong>*sing-song voice* Malfoy misses Granger, Malfoy misses Granger! Aww... he has feelings! <strong>

**Oh, just some random news- I was in a fashion show today. It was amazing, a massive self-esteem boost and Nicole said I looked 'sexy' ;D What a wonderful Friday!**

**Reviews? Maybe? Make our weekend wondeful-er? Did you think it was too much from Draco? Let us know if you like. Muchos love. **


	14. Sadistic

**A/N- Super long chapter for you this week, even if it is a bit of a filler chapter... I'm trying to shorten the wait for y'all for the real action... We're actually writing it this Sunday, ooh are we excited! We can't wait for you to read it. We promise, only a few more chapters until then. **

**As always, thank you for our many wonderful reviews, they give us warm fuzzy feelings inside! We're four away from 100 now! OOH! Sorry, far too excited in general :D**

**Just a special random thank you to a user called ein-gutes-leben (which I believe means "A good life" in German) for adding us to their story alerts and stuff... I really hope you are actually German because I'm getting ready for my German exams in a few weeks and I'm hoping this is a good luck sign ;) so if we have any German friends out there :"Hallo! Lesen und besprechen bitte!" (I apologise if that's terrible German, I'm only GCSE level!)**

**And of course, super love goes out to all of our other readers, whatever country you live in! Review to show us some love back if you like :)**

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><p>"Somebody looks happy," Ginny remarked as Hermione sat down next to her for breakfast. She smiled wryly.<p>

"Well, somebody _is _happy."

She stole a glance over to the Slytherin table where a solitary Theo was sat eating cereal, reading a textbook that was propped up against a nearby milk jug. He looked up and happened to catch her eye and he winked, making her blush a little and smile before looking back to Ginny. Spreading marmalade on a piece of toast, she tried to ignore Ginny's inquisitive stare.

"Want to tell me why?"

"Nope," she replied playfully.

"Come on Hermione, tell me!"

"There's nothing to tell."

Hermione was mostly telling the truth. Since Hallowe'en, nothing had really happened with Theo apart from one enjoyable patrol last night where they had talked about things, which included Malfoy and how he had trashed their common room, and then exchanged a long hug after he'd walked her back to her dorm. Ginny didn't need to know about her budding relationship with Theo and Hermione wasn't planning to tell her anything about it until there was anything real to tell.

"You've been in this ridiculously happy mood since the feast the other day and there has to be a reason. Tell me!" Ginny whined.

"Just because I'm capable of staying in a pleasant mood for longer than a day without suddenly spiralling into some kind of crippling depression does not mean anything has happened. I'm just happy, ok?"

Ginny looked put out for a second.

"Fine."

Hermione went back to eating her breakfast.

"Is it a boy?"

She groaned. Ginny was stubborn by nature and Hermione should have known better than to think that she'd drop the subject on request.

"It's nothing Ginny!"

"Fine!" she snapped. "Don't tell one of your closest friends about the things that are going on in your life, it's ok."

Hermione tutted. Even Ginny's sudden surliness couldn't dampen her mood- it was like a bubble around her that refused to be popped, not that Hermione was complaining about that. _It was refreshing to be happy_, she thought as she chewed her toast and Ginny continued to mutter under her breath. However, at that moment, the one thing with the potential to burst her positive new bubble came swanning past.

Malfoy had strolled into the hall, and as he walked past Hermione he collided quite firmly with her shoulder from behind, causing the food she was trying to swallow to go down the wrong tube. Hermione started spluttering and coughing. Ginny shot Malfoy a dirty look.

"Oops," he said sarcastically. "Sorry!"

He strolled over to the Slytherin table and sat down on the end, alone, with a face like thunder.

"What was that about?" asked Ginny as she patted Hermione's back, her foul mood forgotten.

"Nothing," rasped Hermione, swallowing some pumpkin juice and wiping tears from her watering eyes. "Just Malfoy being an idiot as usual."

"Yeah, but he just hit you. He's never done that before. What a git."

Hermione nodded, not telling Ginny that in actual fact he'd been physical with her before.

"He is a git. You know I went back to our common room on Hallowe'en to find that he'd completely trashed it? Furniture smashed, broken ornaments, everything."

Ginny stared open mouthed. "No way! Why?"

"Because he was angry at… something," she said uneasily. "But what kind of crazy person does that to a room because they're angry? And then I got back after the feast and everything was back to normal and he'd locked himself in his room."

"Is he just taking his anger out on you, do you think?"

"Maybe," said Hermione, trying to contain her nervous blush. There was no way she could tell Ginny that Malfoy was actually mad at her, or why.

She continued to eat as if nothing was wrong while Ginny glowered over at Malfoy defensively, but truth be told, shoving her wasn't the first foul thing Malfoy had done over the past few days.

It seemed he'd been purposely attempting to hit her where it hurt, because his recent onslaught of horrific behaviour had been more devious than ever before. His actions had doubled in effort and in slyness. Most of it wasn't even physical, and she couldn't prove that it was him, like her stuff disappearing then turning up in unlikely places. It drove her crazy when she knew she'd put her schoolbag down on her bed and then she found it on top of the bookshelf in the common room, or other similar happenings. He'd also cruelly shredded her new books and she'd found the mound of paper and leather in a heap on her bed on Monday evening, much to her dismay.

The worst thing he'd done had to have been when he'd hidden her pile of completed homework in such a way that even a Summoning Charm couldn't find it. She'd hastily rewritten three essays, losing much sleep in the process but dreading the thought of not being able to give in any homework at all, before her many rolls of parchment materialised in front of her at three a.m., rendering all of her late night efforts unnecessary. It had been incredibly frustrating.

While she was able to cope with these pranks by passing them off as petty and childish, she couldn't deny that the way he had been speaking to her had begun to hurt. She'd often walk past him in the corridors and hear him having a hacking coughing fit that sounded suspiciously like 'slut' or other derogatory names, and he also liked to ask her frequently how Fred was doing, as he knew that Hermione felt guilty for what had happened between them in Hogsmeade; she had sent him an owl apologising and begging him to forgive her but as of yet there had been no response.

She was just happy that she only really saw Malfoy once a week, when he briefed her on any extra duties they had to do, and those meetings generally only lasted about thirty seconds- at the minute patrolling was their only obligation.

Whooshing noises and shrieks overhead signalled the arrival of the morning post; Hermione looked up, expecting the usual owl with her Daily Prophet subscription and was startled when two owls made their way towards her instead and landed next to her breakfast. Ginny continued to eat and scowl at Malfoy, unperturbed by the birds, as Hermione removed the Daily Prophet from the eagle owl standing pompously by the orange juice and then took a letter from the second grey owl which stole some of Hermione's toast before taking off with the eagle owl and flying out of the Hall.

She opened the letter first; it was from Hagrid inviting her for tea at his house on Friday night and of course she decided to go as she was intent on wheedling out what he wasn't telling her about her purpose at Hogwarts- she'd almost forgotten about it in the drama of the Malfoy-Theo situation. Then she grabbed the Prophet and her eyes scoured the front pages for any mention of Harry or Ron, or any Order members or any deaths. There was nothing, although the headline screamed "More Muggles Attacked" and was accompanied with a moving picture of burning houses with a horrific Dark Mark hovering over them all. Hermione shuddered and put down the paper.

"Anything?" Ginny asked. Her face was bright with desperation as she was as eager as Hermione was to hear something about the boys, even if it was just a sighting somewhere.

Hermione shook her head sadly. "Nothing. Not today."

She took the last bite of her toast as Ginny stared off into space a little sadly and then she felt a sharp tap on her shoulder. She span around with her mouth still full and when she saw Professor McGonagall stood behind her she tried to swallow too quickly and began to choke for the second time today. Ginny thumped her on the back more viciously than before and tried to stifle a laugh.

"P-Professor," she spluttered, trying to regain composure. "Hello."

The Transfiguration Professor looked as severe as usual.

"Good morning," she said crisply, "I've been asked to inform you that from now on you and Mr Malfoy have an extra duty to fulfil, one that the Headmaster is placing particular importance on."

While Hermione was quite glad that she had a new challenge to sink her teeth into (even if it was partially with Malfoy) she felt ill at ease because the professor was still not looking at her; she was acting even stranger now than she had been earlier in the year.

"No doubt you recall the Yule Ball a few years before, during the Triwizard Tournament?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well, Professor Dumbledore is of the idea that a similar event this year would boost morale during these difficult times, with some –er- dancing and such."

Her face said very clearly that McGonagall did not agree that dancing was appropriate given the grave nature of the war outside the castle and Hermione could hear Ginny sniggering beside her but nonetheless the professor continued.

"Furthermore, we all believe that it should inspire an increase of house unity, which we still seem to be severely lacking. Therefore we shall be requiring the assistance of you _and_ Mr Malfoy to help plan some of the finer details of the ball and to promote unity. You must set an example to the students. There will not be much to do," she said while Hermione's heart sunk a little more at the prospect of working with a hostile Malfoy. "We will do most of the more complex work although the Headmaster recommended we ask students to plan the décor and entertainment and so forth. The ball will take place on Christmas Eve and students from all years will be welcome to attend, but the Headmaster will make an announcement about it tonight. We expect you and Mr Malfoy to co-ordinate a team of prefects to help you and your main task will be to prepare the Great Hall on the night of the ball. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded and so the Professor swept off back to the staff table. Hermione looked back to Ginny, her happiness deflating as she did so; it appeared Malfoy had finally (indirectly) ruined her positive mood. Ginny's face was shining excitedly.

"This is brilliant! A Christmas Ball! What a great idea!"

Hermione smiled at her weakly as she immediately stood up and strode towards her sixth year friends, no doubt to tell them about the ball. She watched their faces light up and heard them squeal excitedly and she wished she could share their enthusiasm but even something as rare as a ball couldn't bring her mood back up. She helped herself to another piece of toast and chewed it dejectedly. Now she was staring a horrific task straight in the face and she really couldn't inspire any positive thoughts about the ball within herself; not only would she have to tell Malfoy about it and probably get insulted for the privilege, but she'd have to work with him all through November and into December.

There was nothing for it, she told herself; she'd just have to resign herself to his remarks and then demand his help tonight in the common room. She left the hall, clutching her half-finished toast in her hand.

"Hey!"

Just as she walked out of the doors she was startled to see Theo pop up next to her. She smiled warmly at him and suddenly felt much better.

"Hello," she replied brightly. "How are you?"

"Bloody good, and you?"

"I'm very well, thank you," he said, laughing a little at how happy he seemed; he wasn't at all his usual composed, withdrawn self.

"Glad to hear it. Are you walking down to a lesson?"

"No, I have a study period... No Defence Against the Dark Arts, you know."

"Oh, I have one too. Did you have anything planned?"

He looked a little sheepish and it made Hermione smile.

"I was going to do some homework in the library. You're welcome to join me if you like," she said softly. Her stomach was doing the fluttery thing it always did whenever Theo was around and she could feel her cheeks turning slightly pink. Theo nodded at her and they set off.

They walked to the library in companionable silence, attracting odd looks with their amicability whenever they walked past people they knew. Hermione felt angry and oddly embarrassed every time they were stared at but her typical defiance won through her thoughts making her want to scream at the other students that she could be friends with whomever she wanted.

At the library they spent a pleasant forty-five minutes sat side by side at a table, the only sound the scratching of their quills on parchments or the turning of a page in a thick book, and occasionally they'd look up at each other and smile then continue writing. For once, Hermione found herself struggling to concentrate on her work. Every so often she'd catch a strain of his aftershave or hear him take a deep sighing breath and she'd have to supress a sigh of contentment herself; there was just no pressure with Theo to be anything other than herself and it was wonderful.

About five minutes before they were due to be in their next lesson, the pair of them packed up their things and left the library while Madam Pince stared at their retreating backs as though they'd been ripping up books in front of her. They stopped just outside the entrance; many other students filled the corridor around them, each walking to their next class.

"What are you in now?" asked Hermione.

"Herbology… you?"

"History of Magic," she replied, then rolled her eyes when Theo grimaced. "It isn't that bad!"

"Alright, whatever you say," Theo chuckled teasingly. "Well then… I suppose I'll see you around."

Hermione gave him a small smile and a nod; she would have hugged him but she didn't think she'd have been able to calmly cope with the glances or muttering of the other students in the corridor if she did. She walked off in the direction of the front doors, ready to face the terrible weather outside and attempt to quickly get to the greenhouses.

"Wait a minute- Hermione?"

Hermione turned back around and looked at Theo who was standing quite far from her looking nervous and handsome and wonderful all rolled into one.

"Yes?"

"What are you doing on Friday?"

"I have plans."

Theo's face fell and Hermione realised what he'd thought.

"Oh, no- I'm only having tea with Hagrid! I'm free every other night though," she added hastily.

He walked a little closer to her.

"Saturday then?"

"I'm free Saturday. Why?" she asked coquettishly, hoping this was leading where she thought it was.

"Well I was just wondering if… if you'd like to… maybe go- oh bugger," he said, as though defeated. "I was just wondering if you'd want to spend some time with me. Not on patrol, I mean."

Hermione grinned, partially because she was happy and partially because of how adorably nervous he sounded.

"Of course I would," she beamed and Theo's face lit up.

"Great!" he said, so enthusiastically that passing students looked at him oddly. "Great!" he said again and then without saying anything else he walked off, leaving Hermione feeling quite elated.

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><p>Draco's foul mood hovered about him as though a storm cloud was cracking and swirling over his head, and it was so obvious that even students from lower down the school who knew little about him went out of their way to avoid him, lest they risk the wrath of the Head Boy.<p>

Draco's mood swings had gotten progressively worse and more intense and annoying over the past few days, ever since the Hogsmeade weekend, and it was only staying out of Granger's way as much as possible that allowed him to contain his frequently surfacing anger. Of course, when he saw her he channelled his aggression towards her with curses or snide remarks, but while it would give him some satisfaction for a short time he would always be left feeling overwhelmingly empty again.

While admitting it was horrendous, he actually did miss Granger, more than he thought he would, though it had been mere days since she had cancelled their patrols together. He justified it to himself by deciding that it wasn't _Granger_ that he missed; it was her reactions and their arguments. The connection he had so briefly established with her (albeit founded on insults and arrogance) was addictive in a way Draco had never experienced before. Now he'd had a taste of the power and control he could wield over Granger he was not eager to relinquish it... but he'd certainly have to if Theo had his way. He longed to insult her or go out of his way to irritate her and have her blush or frown or retaliate instead of ignoring him. It was like a game for him, one of the best he'd ever played, and now Theo was getting in the way and was pushing Granger's buttons instead, which made Draco even more angry at his once-close friend.

He'd just stormed out of his dorm after being cooped up inside it for too long and he was now storming around the castle with no real purpose. He didn't want to go to dinner because he knew he'd see Theo and Granger making eyes at each other stupidly from across the room; he didn't know where to go. What he really wanted to do, as awful as it sounded, was to spend just ten minutes with Granger getting her good and riled up. Instead, he bumped into the last person he wanted to see.

"Draco!"

He groaned. "Daphne, fuck off," he said bluntly, in no mood to be remotely considerate to the lying cheater who'd just materialised, seemingly out of nowhere. He didn't pause in his purposeful stride and she fell briskly into step next to him.

"Don't be such an arsehole- wait a second!"

He stopped and stared at her inquisitively.

"You were going to tell Blaise the other day in the Great Hall."

It wasn't really a question, more of an accusing statement; Draco could tell Daphne already knew the answer. He nodded.

"I thought we had a deal?"

He laughed humourlessly. "Oh, my apologies. Yes, in this situation, _I'm _the one in the wrong, it's _my _morals that we should question. I beg your pardon."

"Shut up." She stared at him furiously. "Why were you going to tell him? I thought you Malfoys were famous for not having a conscience; this should be easy for you!"

Her jibe hit a nerve and Draco felt a vein near his jaw twitch. He clenched his fists tightly, trying to contain his irritation.

"As heartless as you may believe me to be, I actually do have emotions and enough sense to want to do the right thing by my friend. And you, Daphne, are a perfect example of the _wrong_ thing."

"It's a little too late to be concerned about doing the right thing, isn't it?" snapped Daphne. "You've already lied to him and kept a secret from him; how do you think he'll feel when he finds out that his best friend didn't tell him the truth? You're in it just as much as I am. We're exactly the same."

"We are nothing alike," hissed Draco dangerously. He was so angry he could see red spots jumping before his eyes. _How dare she suggest he was anything near as bad as her? _"I may lie, and I may be cruel sometimes, and I may be arrogant and proud, but the one thing I would never do is cheat. And that is what makes the difference between us."

She looked away from him, overcome with sudden shame, and said nothing.

"You have until Christmas, and not a second more."

With that, Draco thundered off back to his dorm, the very place he had been trying to escape and now the only place he could be bothered going; if it was possible, Daphne had just put him in a worse mood.

However, about two minutes later he had another of his recent mood swings and his angry stride turned to a slow, melancholy walk as his stomach churned uncomfortably. He didn't feel so angry any more, just incredibly guilty and worried. _What _would _Blaise think if he found out Draco had been lying to him? _His stomach gave a nasty lurch. Theo still knew and so he could easily tell Blaise. His life was shaping up to get worse by the second, he thought, as he muttered the password absently to the growling lion stalking across the portrait. It roared and granted him entry before curling up like a cat in a corner of the frame; the snake slithered back into the painting and rested its head on the lion's paw before both closed their eyes. _That's stupid, _thought Draco, _a lion and a snake could never get along like that. _

"Finally."

The exasperated voice that met him when the portrait thudded softly shut made him half angry, half hopeful. Either way, he wanted to spit an insult that would wipe the patronising look of Granger's face.

"Evening Granger. Not lip-locked with another man tonight?"

She turned slightly red and Draco felt a little of his tension lift; he realised for the first time how very sadistic it was of him to relax by upsetting others. Granger shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"Amusing," she said, failing to mask her irritation with a crisp tone, "but I don't have time for your childishness. We have to discuss something."

"I don't care how desperate you are to snog every male on the planet in as short a time as possible, my lips won't be going anywhere near yours," he smirked, throwing himself into an armchair facing hers.

"Fortunately for me, that's not the topic I had in mind," she retorted, smiling at him forcibly. "I just wanted to inform you that we now have an extra duty. Together." She grimaced. "Professor McGonagall notified me over breakfast that we have to help her and Professor Dumbledore plan the Christmas Ball."

Draco was momentarily confused. "There isn't a Christmas Ball."

"There is now," she replied with obvious distaste. "Something about lightening the mood during the war... regardless, you and I have been charged with planning most of it. We have to assemble a group of prefects to help us but otherwise it's just you and me."

Again, she smiled at him sarcastically.

"Wonderful," he said with a sneer, although in actual fact the idea of irritating a stressed out Granger planning a ball was quite amusing.

"Believe me, I'm not exactly overjoyed myself," Granger said, "but we don't have a choice. Now, I suggest we hold weekly progress meetings, probably on a Wednesday because that's one of the only nights we're both free, and then we can have extra meetings if we feel they're necessary." She pulled out a roll of parchment from her bag nearby and started looking over it. "I've already made a list of all the things we need to do and I've compiled an inventory of useful shops and retailers we can contact for each required element-"

"When is this ball thing?" he asked, interrupting Granger's incredibly fast and boring organizational talk. She sighed in annoyance.

"Christmas Eve. Now, as I was saying, I have contact details and addresses-"

"Do I have to do this?"

Again she sighed. "If you want to keep being Head Boy then yes. By all means, I'm not making you. If you refuse and get the sack I certainly won't mind."

"That would be too easy. No, I'll do it," he smirked, and she turned redder and frowned.

"Brilliant," she snapped. "So to make things easier I'll do most of the work, though I will need you to assist me every so often."

"Fine."

"Alright then. I'll tell you when we next need to have a meeting to discuss my progress."

She got up and started collected her things and straightened out her robes.

"How was patrol with Theo last night?" he asked dangerously and he saw her back stiffen.

"It was good, not that it's anything to do with you-"

"But it's everything to do with me, Mudblood."

Again he saw her back stiffen at his words but she continued packing her things as though he'd said nothing. Once more his mood had changed and he'd begun to get angry again.

"What you do with Theo is largely to do with me because I'll have to pick up the pieces of his broken life when he decides you aren't worth losing his family and his money over, which you certainly aren't. It doesn't matter what he says right now, there will come a point when he realises what a scummy, worthless creature you are, and then he'll crawl meekly back to his daddy and beg for forgiveness."

He was gripping the arms of his chair so hard that his knuckles were white and he was trembling with suppressed rage. This was perhaps the most vicious he had been and it had hit home with Granger; she was shaking too and as she spun round to look at him her eyes were full of angry tears.

"Listen Malfoy, I don't care whether you think it's your business or not. I don't care if you insult me, because oddly enough it seems you're doing it out of concern for your friend, even though you're being incredibly racist about it. But it is most definitely not your place to tell me this will end badly. First of all, nothing has even started yet, I'm just Theo's friend, and second, Theo is much stronger than you give him credit for. If he decides he doesn't care what his father thinks then he will never care, because he isn't like you!"

"This isn't about whether I care what _my_ father thinks," he smiled evilly. "This is about Theo. I thought you were 'the brightest witch of your age' but you do appear to be incredibly dim. He and I are much more alike than you give him credit for. He's a Slytherin for a reason- he always looks out for himself above all others. So when the inevitable time comes when he chooses his family over you, I will thoroughly enjoy saying 'I told you so.'"

Granger looked as though she could hit him.

"But you won't need to say it!" she exploded, striding closer to him. "Merlin, you're acting as if we're getting married or something! How many times do I have to spell it out? _We're just friends_!"

"For now," he replied darkly, leaping up out of his chair so that he was towering over Granger. "But we both know that isn't what Theo wants. Disgusting as it might be, I'm pretty certain he wants in your awful Mudblood knickers."

She flinched and blushed crimson, her eyes still swimming with unshed tears of frustration, but she continued to stare defiantly at him. As angry as he was, Draco couldn't help but enjoy how obviously difficult it was for her to contain her anger.

"But if you let him, Granger, I can't promise I'll stay this composed."

"Are you threatening me?" she asked quietly, her voice trembling with rage.

"So what if I am?"

There was a moment of silence so intense that Draco thought he might drown in it, it was so palpable around him, and then suddenly Granger brought her hand around in an attempt to connect sharply with his face. Draco was quicker and with his Seeker's reflexes he captured her wrist mere inches from his face.

"Let's not have a repeat of third year, shall we? Keep your vile hands away from me."

He let go of her wrist and her arm fell limply to her side. Her chest was heaving and her breath was coming out heavily. Casually wiping his hand on the front of his robes, he stepped slightly back from her.

"Now why don't you run into your room, close the door, and stay away from me until our next meeting?" he asked with faux-politeness and he smiled sarcastically at her. She seized her things and stalked towards her room, slamming the door behind her. After a few seconds, he heard a muffled cry as though she'd just screamed into a pillow and he chuckled to himself.

He felt his anger trickle away as he sat back down in his armchair. While he'd succeeded in getting far too worked up, the fiery row with Granger had relieved most of his tension and he felt almost content as he reclined lazily.

He really was a sadistic bastard.


	15. Purpose

**A/N- Wotcher, Dramione lovers :) Just a few little things before we get started. **

**First of all, just to let you know... WE PASSED 100 REVIEWS! *cue a little dance of celebration* Words can't describe how much we love each and every one of you who had reviewed LB, and if you haven't... what are you waiting for? Make my day and review :)**

**In answer to a question I received about whether I write my own stories: Sometimes. However I often find that I start them and then can't quite finish them because I begin to dislike the characters. I find fanfiction easier in that respect- character development is mostly done so it's easier to write about them, but in many ways it's so much harder to change a character to have them fit your situations. Either way, I love writing fanfiction, I will NEVER abandon this fic because it's basically my baby, and I'm writing this instead of revision because I love you all that much. **

**Anyway: this chapter will probably bring some retribution for our beloved Draco, who, up to now, has been ****a bit of a dick. When you've read it, feel free to let me know whether you thought it was enough or not ;) **

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><p>While often she counted herself lucky to be safe at school, sometimes, Hermione found herself wishing that she'd never come back to Hogwarts, and now was one of those times.<p>

Even though it had been a week now since they had last spoken, Hermione was still fuming with Malfoy and how horrific he'd been to her, even by his standards. As if it wasn't bad enough that he sounded like a broken record - always going on about how she and Theo shouldn't and couldn't be together when nothing had even happened yet- the worst of it was that no matter how hard she tried she couldn't keep calm when he insulted her. He was the one person in the world who could make her so angry she wanted to be violent and unfortunately he was also the one person she was forced to work with until Christmas. She felt that right now she'd rather be facing unknown dangers and finding Horcruxes rather than arranging a ball with Draco Malfoy.

Currently, she was basking in the silent, Malfoylessness of the common room, reading that morning's _Prophet_ while he was down at dinner. However, like happened more and more often these days, she found her thoughts drifting from the pages and onto her problems instead. If it wasn't for Theo, she found herself thinking, she probably would have tried to leave by now. He was the only thing keeping her sane. Ginny especially was still irritating her, though they had now made up, and while Hermione was trying to forget about Fred and how upset he'd seemed, Ginny was a constant reminder. All in all, Hermione was quite relieved that she wouldn't be having dinner in the Great Hall tonight and would be visiting Hagrid instead.

She put down her paper, too frustrated to read and she decided to just go and see Hagrid now. A quick glance out of the window told her it wasn't a pleasant evening to be walking across the grounds - thick fog obscured most of the scenery outside and it looked gloomy -and so she picked up her cloak from her room and hid her book on top of a wardrobe, where it would be safe from Malfoy and his book desecrating hands. Throwing on the cloak she stepped out of the portrait hole and she was met with the sight of a whistling Theo walking down the corridor towards her. Their faces split into simultaneous smiles.

"Hello," they both said in unison and then laughed. Hermione walked towards him.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was just coming to see you actually," he smiled as they walked slowly to a nearby staircase.

"I thought you knew I was going to Hagrid's tonight?" she asked, a little confused.

"Oh, I did," Theo said, "but I thought I'd walk you to his house, you know, to make sure you're safe. Have you seen that fog outside? I don't want you wandering around in the grounds on your own in that."

Hermione's stomach did a little leap of pleasure and a shy smile crept across her face. Theo was such a gentleman.

"You're very sweet, did you know that?"

"Yeah, I did," he grinned and they both chuckled warmly. "Are we still on for tomorrow?"

"Definitely," Hermione replied. "What are we doing?"

"That would be telling," Theo smirked playfully. "It's a surprise. I'll pick you up outside of your common room for about four though."

"Alright then," she smiled, a little disappointed that she'd have to wait until tomorrow to find out what she and Theo would be doing. They walked in comfortable silence for a little while.

"So... how's Malfoy been?" asked Theo delicately. "Has he done anything since he trashed your common room?"

Hermione sighed. "Not really. Just the usual- name calling and snide remarks. Oh, apart from... never mind."

Hermione was aware that it was quite stupid to go telling Theo about Malfoy's almost-threat; he'd been explosive to Malfoy in the past and she didn't want him to cause trouble.

"What did he do?" Theo's tone had taken on a coldness that was easily detectable and Hermione tried to be wary.

"Nothing. I'm over-reacting."

"Hermione, just tell me. If you're over-reacting then why does it matter?"

"Fine," she sighed. "All that happened was that Professor McGonagall said Malfoy and I have to plan the Christmas Ball together-" At the sight of Theo's face she elaborated. "We're having a ball this year... to boost morale and stuff... anyway, we have to plan it together so I had to have a chat with him about it. He was his usual self- an arrogant arse- but then started asking about you and he told me if I..." she paused, blushing, "that if I 'tried anything' with you he wouldn't stay calm and composed. "

Theo didn't look at her but Hermione saw anger in his eyes flickering wildly just as the torches in the brackets on the walls besides them.

"So he threatened you?"

"Not as such... well... kind of..." she finished lamely.

Theo didn't look very happy at all and he didn't speak for a while and just looked furiously ahead.

"Don't do anything stupid Theo."

"What?" He looked at her.

"Malfoy didn't seriously threaten me, so don't get into trouble over it. It wasn't nearly as bad as last time, he wasn't violent or anything, just verbal-"

"He's been violent with you?"

Hermione couldn't believe she been so stupid when she realised what she'd said.

"Only a little!" she said desperately, trying to say anything that would calm Theo down. They'd come to a standstill in the Hall and she could practically hear his brain whirring and buzzing over different ways to hurt Malfoy. "He just pinned me against a wall and scared me a bit, he didn't hit me-"

"Oh, so that's ok, is it? Why didn't you report him?" fumed Theo, sounding enraged.

"Because I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd gotten to me!" she replied, knowing it was hypocritical of her to use an excuse she'd scolded Harry for using once only a few years before.

"Hermione, that's so stupid! You're supposed to be smart! I can't believe you'd-"

"Theo, please, let it go! I'm fine, look at me! It isn't a big deal, it was ages ago. Just forget it."

He looked as though he wanted to argue further but the look in Hermione's eyes said it was pointless.

"Fine."

It was hard to recapture the earlier light mood now that Theo was angry. They walked the rest of the way to the Entrance Hall in stony silence and it was very uncomfortable. She wanted to break the ice but she didn't really know what to say.

Outside there was no wind but it was freezing; as Theo had said there was so much fog that Hermione could barely see what was in front of her. The ground was damp and squishy underfoot and feeling the chill both quickened their pace. Hermione didn't like fog. When it was foggy everything was too still and it was quiet and eerie, like in the Muggle horror films she'd watched when she was younger.

Hermione shivered and felt a coldness she was quite sure had nothing to do with the temperature; Theo still hadn't as much as looked at her. Suddenly, from the direction of the forest, Hermione heard a bird caw and she jumped, gasping. Theo immediately reached out and grabbed her hand almost instinctively, and he squeezed it tightly. It took a second to register with her what she was doing and then her hand started to tingle and she felt her cheeks warm up. She glanced at Theo and saw that he didn't look so angry anymore and there was a slight smile playing around his lips.

He didn't let go of her hand until they had arrived at Hagrid's door, having navigated their way there after stumbling onto the now empty pumpkin patch. She thanked him for walking her and he smiled and nodded, shivering all the while.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked tentatively, deciding to just confront his feelings outright as he turned to leave. He looked back at her.

"I'm not mad at _you_."

She sighed. "Please… don't do anything stupid. Don't get into trouble."

"I'll try," he said stiffly and Hermione let the matter drop; it didn't seem that she'd be able to get Theo to hold his temper so she settled for the idea that he'd at least attempt to leave Malfoy be.

"Good. So I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Yes you will," he smiled, dropping his slightly cold air.

Hermione opened her arms and Theo walked back towards her before pulling her into a tight hug which made her stomach flutter madly. As they pulled away, Theo paused very close to Hermione's face as though he was about to do something and then thought better of it and stepped back.

"Bye then."

"Bye," she replied reluctantly and then she waved to him as he set off back to the castle before knocking loudly on Hagrid's door.

Inside she heard Fang start barking loudly and Hagrid muttering "Get back, Fang, yeh stupid mutt," and then the door opened.

"Hello Hermione, come in," he said, ushering her inside with the hand that wasn't clutching Fang's collar. "Yeh shouldn'ta come down on yer own."

He frowned, looking fretful.

"I didn't, someone walked me," she said, shrugging off her cloak and sitting herself on one of the huge chairs around the table. Hagrid's house was lovely and warm after the freezing cold outside and she smiled at Hagrid's concern. He released a happy Fang, who launched himself on Hermione, licking her and slobbering all over her.

"Oh, well, that's alrigh' then. How are yeh?"

"I'm fine," she said airily but Hagrid gave her a scathing look.

"I can tell jus' by lookin' at yeh that there's somethin' yeh aren' tellin' me."

Hermione half-smiled, scratching Fang behind the ears as he drooled on her robes.

"It's just Malfoy being insufferable as usual. He's always called me a Mudblood-" Hagrid's face clouded "-but now he's being even worse. He ripped up all the books I bought in Hogsmeade, he goes out of his way to insult me and the worst part is that I have to see him every day. I can't escape him because we share the dorm. And now I have to plan the Christmas Ball with him. Oh, we're having-"

"Yeah, I know all abou' the ruddy ball," murmured Hagrid as though the idea of it wasn't appealing to him; perhaps it reminded him to much of Madame Maxime.

"Yes. Well, I have to organise it with him and I really don't want to. He's just been horrid lately, worse than usual."

"I've never liked him much meself. But yeh'll be alrigh' Hermione, yeh always are. Yeh're a much better person than him anyway so don' let him get ter yeh. Jus' ignore him."

"I know I should," she said, as Hagrid got up and filled the teapot with boiling water that had been heating on the stove. "But he's just so infuriating! He knows just how to get under my skin and- oh Merlin, I feel so stupid."

Hagrid looked at her oddly as he placed a cup in front of her.

"Listen to me moaning about my insignificant little problems. What are they compared to the real ones out there?"

"Jus' because yer problems aren' big, don' mean they aren' important" replied Hagrid wisely.

He filled Hermione's cup and then she added milk before stirring it thoughtfully. It seemed he'd made some kind of stew and Hermione could smell it bubbling away on the stove. While it didn't actually have that much of an unpleasant aroma, Hermione knew to be wary of it and thought she probably wouldn't be eating very much tonight.

"How's Grawp?" asked Hermione looking for another subject to talk about.

"Oh, he's doin' good! He's gettin' better at talkin' an' he doesn' rip up so many trees now."

"That's nice," she smiled.

"Yeh should come an' visit him again, I know he'd like that!"

"Mm," replied Hermione, drinking her tea, not spectacularly eager to promise to visit the giant in the forest. "So how are things out there?" she asked, allowing herself to ask the question that so often became the subject of her visits. "The Prophet said that some Muggles have been attacked but the Ministry's still standing firm-"

"Codswallop," growled Hagrid, stirring the stew. "The Prophet don' know nothin', I've already told yeh once. Yeh can't trust it. They don' wanna cause a panic so they don' write the truth. It's hangin' by a thread out there an' mark my words, it won't be long."

Though she'd heard it before it was still difficult to comprehend. If the Ministry fell to Voldemort, what would she do? How long would Hogwarts be able to survive? She'd have to run and hide. As a Muggleborn and a known friend of Harry Potter she'd be one of the first they'd hunt down. She shivered and sipped more of her tea. There was a small silence.

"Have yeh heard from Harry or Ron?"

"No," she sighed forlornly. "We decided that we shouldn't write to each other because it's dangerous but I thought that perhaps Ron might have tried anyway…" She trailed off, trying to remind herself that thinking about Ron shouldn't make her feel guilty anymore- they weren't together.

Once more she tried to change the subject. "How are the Order doing?"

"Well… Tonks is pregnant."

"Ooh!" gushed Hermione, very pleased for her friends. "Oh, that's wonderful!"

"Yeah… Remus is dead chuffed," said Hagrid with a smile, sitting back down at the table. "Pleased as punch, he was. But I'm afraid tha's the on'y good news. Everyone's bin workin' round the clock ter try an' find out summat abou' You-Know-Who's plans but we still don' know much. We did manage ter capture a couple o' Imperiused Ministry workers the other day but tha's abou' it. Things aren' good, Hermione, they aren' good at all."

There was another tense silence.

"I'm scared, Hagrid."

"Like I said, don' worry. 'S long as we've got Dumbledore yeh're safe."

"But it's all so frustrating!" she snapped, at last giving into her previously contained anger. "If the Order are doing so badly and need help, why aren't I allowed to help? Why am I stuck here like a silly little child when I could be of use?"

Hagrid shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked away from her. "I don' know… yeh're too young… ask the Order… I hones'ly don' know…"

"But you do know, Hagrid, I know you do. It's not because I'm too young- Fred and George were my age when they started getting involved in the Order!" Her eyes were shining with angry tears. "Professor McGonagall is hiding it from me and I could forgive her for it, but not you. You're my friend. Please just tell me, it's driving me crazy! Please," she begged, as a solitary tear rolled down her cheek, "please just tell me why the Order want to keep me here."

Hagrid looked incredibly uneasy and he was wringing his huge hands. Hermione stared imploringly at him and finally he looked up at her.

"Alrigh'," he conceded with a heavy sigh. "I s'pose yeh deserve ter know."

He stood up and once more began stirring the stew fervently.

"Obviously yeh know Malfoy was allowed back ter school. But wha' yeh might not know is tha' his mum changed sides in the summer. You-Know-Who wasn' happy when Malfoy didn' kill Dumbledore so he was gonna kill Draco an' his mum. She came to the Order an' asked fer protection an' fer whatever reason they allowed it. None of us 'cept Dumbledore even saw her before she went into hidin'. But even so they thought it might be bes' tha' someone keep an eye on him."

Hermione felt her panic drain away at the anti-climactic answer. "Oh. Well that's not that bad." She wiped away her tears and brought her cup back to her lips. "Of course, I'd rather have gone with the boys than play babysitter to Malfoy but-"

She froze. Hagrid still had his back to her and looked even more tense. Dread filled her once more and she didn't need all her intelligence to know something was wrong.

"That's not the whole reason, is it?"

Hagrid's shoulders slumped. "No."

Hermione's stomach curled up into a twisted knot and she felt icy cold fear chill her.

"What's the rest of it?"

Hagrid's hands were shaking and she could tell even though he was gripping the wooden bench next to the stove very hard.

"Yeh do know though, tha' it was Dumbledore's idea, and it seemed like the bes' option…"

Hermione said nothing and she felt her eyes burn with tears once more. She mentally cursed herself- she should have been stronger than this- but she stayed silent.

"Dumbledore never told us wha' yeh were all plannin' on doin' an' we still don' know… He jus' told us tha' it was very dangerous an' tha' yeh could easily get killed doin' it."

His voice was trembling as much as his hands and he still had his back to her. More tears fell from Hermione's eyes.

"He's bin in contact with the boys an' he's bin givin' 'em some important information apparently. But because the job was so dangerous an' he wanted someone to keep an eye on Malfoy anyway he thought it might be bes' if… if we made sure one o' yeh stayed here, where we can keep yeh safe, so if we lose Dumbledore and the other two were ter… were ter…_ die_, there'd be someone left who could finish whatever job yeh're doing."

Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth and her body was shaking with barely supressed sobs. Hagrid finally turned to look at her and she saw painful tears in his black eyes too.

"Yeh've got ter know I tried ter convince 'em against it but they wouldn' listen an' I wanted to tell yeh but they said it was bes' that yeh didn't know… Dumbledore told us tha' he can't do whatever it is himself, it has ter be you three…"

"You mean that I'm here as an insurance policy?" she cried in disbelief, finding her voice at last. "Just in case of emergencies, I'm the back up? I can't believe this," she choked.

"Hermione, I'm sorry-"

"I want to go."

She saw Hagrid look hurt and she felt a flash of sympathy but she was too upset to properly comfort him.

"I don't blame you, I truly don't, and I'm glad you told me, but I need to be alone right now." She was anything but glad but Hagrid looked so regretful she felt she should at least say something.

"Alrigh'… go…"

Without saying goodbye to the miserable Hagrid she flung on her cloak then flew out of his house and into the fog. Tears started to fall heavily down her face, and she found herself wishing bitterly that she'd never questioned why she was at Hogwarts because the truth had revealed such a huge betrayal.

* * *

><p>The clatter of hundreds of knives and forks and the hum of chatter from around the room was Draco's only real company as he picked unenthusiastically at his meal. While, much to his distaste, Blaise had seated himself opposite Draco the second he'd sat down, they weren't talking. Blaise was busy kissing Daphne, who unfortunately seemed to almost permanently hover around him like some kind of irritating insect Draco longed to swat. Although he didn't care much that Blaise wasn't talking to him he did despise having to keep his food down while watching such a horrific display.<p>

The all-too-familiar gut wrenching guilt was eating him up more and more with every second he remained seated and he desperately longed to escape to his room or the library or _anywhere_ away from the Hall, but he knew if he did make such an exit without saying anything Blaise would probably follow him and ask him some questions he did not want to answer. So, he resolved to stick it out until he'd finished what was left of his food and then disappear without looking so suspicious, and he was spearing a potato viciously with his fork when there was a smacking sound and Blaise surfaced for air. He had a stupid grin on his face and his lips were swollen and Draco noticed with distaste that he intertwined his fingers with Daphne's before moving their joined hands out of sight under the table. Her face was plastered with a false smile and she picked up a nearby goblet and drank deeply from it.

"Sorry mate, I was halfway through saying something, wasn't I?" he asked, looking a tad bewildered.

"Yes. I believe it was 'hello' actually," replied Draco dryly, forcing more food into his mouth. Everything tasted like cardboard and he had totally lost his appetite.

Blaise laughed. "Oh yeah. Ahh well."

He spooned a generous helping of chicken pie on to his plate and then stuffed some into his mouth with all the grace of a troll; Draco saw disgust briefly flicker onto Daphne's face before her simpering façade returned.

"I'm going up to my room now, sweetie," she said in a sickeningly sweet falsetto. Blaise looked questioning but couldn't speak through his full mouth so Daphne elaborated. "I'm not hungry."

Blaise finally swallowed his large mouthful. "I'll see you up there later?"

Draco didn't have to be a genius to work out that Blaise was quite obviously suggesting sex; for all his usual success at subtlety, when it came to girls Blaise came undone. Draco rolled his eyes and began angrily tearing his bread roll into crumbs.

"If you like," Daphne replied with such obvious reluctance that Draco was surprised the usually perceptive Blaise didn't notice; he thought with irritation that love truly must be blind.

Blaise nodded enthusiastically and Daphne smiled at him before scampering off; a couple of seconds later Dean Thomas stood up across the Hall and Draco tried not to think what they might be going to do.

Blaise was almost oblivious to Draco's foul mood.

"Sorry about that… I just get a little carried away with her sometimes."

"It's alright," said Draco, trying to sound as sincere as possible.

"She's just great, isn't she?"

"Yeah. Fantastic. I'm really happy for you, Blaise."

It appeared that perhaps now Daphne was gone Blaise's usual insightfulness had returned; he must have noted the forced tone to Draco's voice because his head snapped up and his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What's up? Do you not like Daphne or something?" He sounded concerned and almost hurt. "You used to get along with her fine."

"Of course I like her! She's great," he replied, smiling as genuinely as he could but Blaise wasn't having any of it. He put down his fork and pushed his plate away.

"Then do you want to tell me what's had you acting like a little bitch for the past couple of weeks? You were pissed off on Hallowe'en but you didn't tell me then."

"I haven't been acting like 'a little bitch.'"

"Yes you have, and you know it. Stop trying to dodge the question and just tell me what's up." Blaise sounded both irritated and worried.

Draco didn't want to tell Blaise the truth so he tried to lie. "I'm just pissed off because of Theo and Granger. They've gone back to being friends and it's irritating me."

"Bull. Shit," Blaise replied. "That's been going on for ages and you've only been acting like more of a dick than usual these past two weeks or so. And you're supposed to be mad at Theo but you've been avoiding _me_. You're terribly obvious. Just tell me!"

"Fine!" Draco snapped. "I… I…"

He couldn't do this to Blaise_, _he thought. But he ought to tell him something. Some kind of warning.

"I just don't think that Daphne is very good for you. I think you should break up with her."

There was a very awkward silence between them.

"Are you being serious?" spluttered Blaise finally, with a half-smirk on his face.

"Deadly serious."

Blaise's grin slowly faded and he seemed to be struggling to form words.

"_Where_ has this come from?"

Draco had to think on his feet. "I don't like how you act when you're around her. You change and go all lovey-dovey and stupid. That isn't you."

"Are you aware of how much like a girl you sound right now?" asked Blaise, typically trying to use humour to cover his confusion.

"Oh, fuck off. You asked what was wrong and this is it. I just have a… a _feeling _that she's going to hurt you so I think you should break up with her before she can break up with you."

"You want me to dump my girlfriend because you have 'a feeling' that she's going to do something bad?"

"Look, I know it sounds mental, but I need you to trust me on this."

Again, there was another silence.

"Mate," Blaise began quietly, "I know after what we were talking about in the common room that time it might have made you think about what you want… and I know you might have gotten a little… a little jealous… but making me break up with Daphne won't stop it-"

"This isn't about jealously, Blaise! She's just not a good person and I think you should dump her for your own sake before she dumps you or- or something worse happens. I'm just trying to look out for-"

"Yeah, yeah, look out for me. I get it. You're saying this for my own good, to 'protect me,'" replied Blaise heatedly, evidently irritated and sounding doubtful that Draco was concerned in the slightest for him. "Just like you were with Theo, I suppose? But look what happened there! You might want to stop looking out for your friends Draco, or pretty soon you won't have any left."

Draco couldn't take it anymore so he stood up and stormed towards the doors of the Hall before he did something stupid, like punch Blaise, who was watching him leave, open mouthed and still angry.

Nothing he did was right any more, he fumed as he stalked into the Entrance Hall. All he ever did was try to help his friends and he just got it thrown back in his face-

"Oi, you!"

Draco span on his heel angrily to see if it was he who had been addressed so rudely and was further aggravated to see Theo walking towards him; he must have been sat on the Grand Staircase waiting for something. Apparently, thought Draco, given his purposeful march, waiting for _him_. Draco groaned, seeing Theo's face thunderstruck.

"Oh bloody hell, what the fuck do you want now?" he enquired irately, running his hands through his hair as he did whenever he was cross or under pressure. "I've had it tonight with people getting mad at me so if you're going to start yelling at me for pissing off your girlfriend or whatever I did, just do it-"

Suddenly, he saw stars and his world exploded with white hot pain as Theo's fist collided with his nose, sending spurting jets of blood everywhere when it broke with a sickening _crunch_. Draco cried out in a mixture of pain and shock and he felt the blood, warm and wet, as it oozed down his face, some reaching his lips so that he could taste the metallic, salty tang in his mouth. He felt dizzy.

Gingerly he opened his eyes. After a second, everything stopped spinning. Theo was stood less than a foot from him, shaking his fist in pain (the knuckles of which had split on the impact and were covered in both his and Draco's blood) and panting heavily, his face screwed up in anger.

"What the fuck was that for?" Draco cried, his voice nasal because of the state of his nose.

"I told you if you threatened Hermione again I'd curse you, but you aren't worth my magic, so I figured I'd just use my fists. Regardless, I told you not to threaten her but you still fucking did it. You deserved that." Theo's voice was calm, though his trembling suggested he was anything but.

"Who told you I threatened her?" Draco asked incredulously, spitting blood onto the stone floor and wincing as he jarred his nose.

"She did! About ten minutes ago, actually!"

"Well then, she's fucking exaggerating!" I've only ever really threatened her once at the start of the year-"

He was cut short once more when Theo's right fist once more made contact with his face, bringing him fresh agony and causing tears to spring to his eyes.

"Fucking hell, what is your problem?"

"_You_!" Theo yelled, flecks of spit flying in Draco's bloody face. "You pinned her against a wall and threatened her! What the fuck were you playing at?"

"I was trying to keep her away from you, you ungrateful dick! I did it before I knew you were properly interested in her, to look out for you! I wouldn't have been quite so… aggressive otherwise," he replied. Theo still looked murderous. "But mark my words: this will end badly, and when it does you'll wish you'd listened to me in the first place."

"That won't happen," hissed Theo. He took a slight step back. "Now I'd go if I were you, before Filch catches you dripping blood on his clean floors."

He began to walk in the direction of the dungeons.

"Oh, so that's it?" he shouted thickly at his retreating back. "So you just punch me then walk off? How_ noble_ of you!"

Theo stiffened then stood still. Draco took out his wand, ignoring the pain for a second, just as Theo sent a jet of red light his way; he managed to cast a Shield Charm just in time.

It was a good job Draco could manage non-verbal magic as he didn't think he'd be able to cast a spell correctly when he couldn't properly pronounce it; he concentrated and silently sent a hex Theo's way, but he avoided it and Draco barely managed to dodge another jet of red light before he sent yet another spell towards Theo.

In their haze of hexing and grunting and dodging, neither boy noticed a crying Hermione fleeing up the staircase, and in fact they didn't notice anything until Professor McGonagall's voice rang out, crisp and clear in the Entrance Hall.

"Mr Malfoy! Mr Nott!"

Both boys paused and snapped their heads to look at the Professor but both kept their wands raised. Apparently, their fight had drawn quite a crowd because there was a horde of students stood giggling and gawking behind her.

"What are you doing?" she asked, looking from the red-faced Theo to the bleeding Draco.

"Nott punched me, Professor, so I was trying to hex him," Malfoy replied coolly.

"Is this true?"

Theo nodded stiffly.

"I really would have expected better from a Prefect and the Head Boy. Regardless of whether or not you were provoked, the use of magic in the corridors is strictly prohibited. Twenty points will be taken from Slytherin and you both will have a detention. Now I suggest you go to the Hospital Wing, Mr Malfoy, and then join Mr Nott in returning to your respective dormitories."

They both hesitated, neither wanting to leave without injuring the other first.

"_Now._"

It was the finality in her tone that made Draco reluctantly make his way up to the staircase and back to his room, dripping blood all the way. He didn't want to go to the Hospital Wing for something as small as a broken nose, he could fix it himself. Maybe.

All in all, tonight had been horrendous. He'd argued with Blaise and been beaten up by Theo. _With friends like those, _thought Draco, _who needs enemies?_

* * *

><p><strong>This is easily one of mine and Nicole's favourite chapters. She still laughs every time I read out the BlaiseDraco argument to her. **

**Chapters from here on out are probably going to be longer because more stuff is going to happen. Just a little heads up. **

**Ooh, intense times for Hermione. She found out why she's at Hogwarts and the reason isn't nice. Was it what you expected? I'm pretty conscious that this might not be what many of you had in mind... hopefully that isn't bad though? Just unexpected? ****Please review and let us know what you think!**


	16. Broken

**A/N - Aloha! Here's this weeks chapter, and, I have to say, it's my favourite one so far, because I love love love Draco with an unending passion. :D The majority of this A/N will come after the chapter, so it's only a short one this week. Please review if you can, I'm feeling a bit down in the dumps about the mass of exams headed my way (TWELVE!) and could use a pick-me-up to detract from the horror that is revision. **

**Speaking of which, me and Nicole have been stockpiling chapters so that we still have uploads for you while we're doing our exams even if we don't have time to write, but the time may come when these weekly uploads will have to become fortnightly... Sorry! They will resume properly after the exams, and it may not even happen, but we'll just have to wait and see. This was just a heads up :) **

**Jeez, this was supposed to be short... anyway, enjoy. **

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><p>Holding a hand to his still broken and bleeding nose, Draco stomped his way angrily past hundreds of chattering portraits to his common room. Every jolt brought brand new waves of pain to his face and a persistent throbbing in the centre of his forehead almost rendered him immobile from its intensity. He should have gone to the Hospital Wing, he thought, but it was too late now. He felt so dizzy from losing blood that he didn't think he'd make it. The only thing that was keeping him walking was the adrenaline pumping through his veins in post-fight aggression and some very violent thoughts about what he'd like to do to Theo next time he saw him.<p>

After an age he reached the portrait, mumbled the password thickly then stumbled inside. He slammed it closed and let out a groan of pain before sinking to the floor where he was, and then he heard a squeak followed by sniffling sounds. He opened one eye and saw Granger sat with her back to him in front of the fire. He immediately tried to put on a brave face, not wanting to seem in anyway vulnerable in front of her before muttering a low, "Oh, it's you."

She didn't turn around. "Look Malfoy," she said, and it was obvious from her hoarse, throaty voice that she'd been crying, "I'm really not in the mood to take your insults right now, so if you'd just leave me alone for once-"

She looked round at him for the first time since he'd entered the room and her red, sore-looking eyes widened. She gasped.

"Malfoy! What happened to you?"

Granger actually sounded concerned, not smug as he'd expected, and she jumped up and ran over to him, hovering awkwardly in front of him.

"Your boyfriend happened," he growled. "He punched me in the face twice for threatening you. Nice one telling on me like a bloody child."

She didn't seem irritated by his harsh tone and instead her expression softened even more.

"Theo isn't my boyfriend," she replied, sitting down in front of him, "and I didn't tell him on purpose, it just sort of slipped out. I told him not to make a big deal out of it. I can't believe him! Why didn't you go to the Hospital Wing?"

Draco shrugged; he couldn't really remember. The pain in his nose seemed to be slowly killing off his brain cells.

Granger frowned a little. "Let me look at you, I know a few Healing spells."

She tentatively reached out and touched his chin to tilt his face towards her; he felt his rage quell at her soothing touch but habitually he jerked away.

"Don't touch me! I'll be fine, it's just a broken nose," he snapped, though even as he said it his face gave another painful twinge and he moaned gruffly.

"Fine, if you won't let me touch you, at least let me fix it," said Granger placatingly.

Draco was silent for a second but then the pain began to get too much so he nodded and she took out her wand. He eyed it warily when she pointed it at his face.

"Just to make this clear, Granger-"

"I'm not doing this to fulfil that stupid favour I still owe you!" she snapped, reading his mind. "I'm doing this because I'm trying to be nice, even though you've been nothing other than awful to me, because this is all my fault."

Again he nodded.

"Now this is going to hurt a little," she warned, and then staring at his nose with a look of utter concentration she murmured, "_Episkey."_

Draco's nose felt hot and then quickly cold again, and there was a loud painful _crack _as his bones jumped back into place. He cried out and Granger winced.

"Sorry," she said, and then he gently touched his fixed nose. It seemed alright.

But then before he could say anything else to her, Granger had shrugged off her robe, wet it with some water from her wand and placed one of her hands on his cheek as she began cleaning the dried and wet blood off his face. He was caught off guard, so for a second he let it happen until, of course, he shrank away. Granger rolled her eyes.

"For Merlin's sake Malfoy, just let me clean the blood off!"

She looked so formidable but her eyes so beseeching that he was compelled to let her continue; he relaxed and she brought her robe to his face once more.

He simply couldn't comprehend what was going on. Granger and he hated each other, and he'd been incredibly vicious and cruel to her recently, and yet still Granger was acting in the most compassionate way he could imagine. Her touch on his skin was tender and caring and though it was obvious that she'd been dealing with her own problems until he came in, she'd still gone out of her way to do the right thing- to help him. Draco felt an unfamiliar feeling creep its way around his gut. Guilt.

He _should_ feel guilty, he thought miserably. Because for the first time now, Granger wasn't just 'Granger-the-Mudblood'. She was a person; an actual human being with emotions and morals and an innate goodness that he himself seemed to have long forgotten. Her overwhelming desire to care for and look after her fellow human, regardless of who they were to her, had overpowered her loathing of him. And yet he had shied away from her. What did that say for him? Had he no good left inside of him, no saving grace? Was he set to become just like his father, haughty and cruel and almost emotionless? That was the very worst thing he could imagine. To feel nothing but emptiness and hopelessness. But it seemed he was headed that way.

He realised he envied Granger that much; for all the prejudice and hurt she might suffer at the hands of him, or his peers, or the Death Eaters, she would always have a pure soul and a kind heart to stop her from becoming an empty shell. Even while she was away from the friends with whom she had always seemed attached at the hip, she was strong enough to remain hopeful. After all, had she ever once seemed overwhelmingly despairing to him? Well, except for now. No; she would always have hope, hope that good would overpower evil, no matter how unlikely it seemed, and he wished he could too. But all he was able to concentrate on was the darkness of his own little world, and the ever looming black cloud that threatened to engulf the wider world outside. What would he do then, when there was no Order to protect him and his mother from the vengeance of the Dark Lord? _Run_, he thought. And that was the difference between them. He was a coward and she was strong. He chuckled humourlessly in his own head when he realised that was probably what made her a Gryffindor. She always searched for the bright side in everything. Even in him. Had she not said once, that she had begun to think a little better of him? _Him?_ She was a better person than he, though he would never dare admit that to her.

He had never thought of her like that before, and it opened many doors to horrible feelings of regret and remorse for every time he had teased her and provoked her to get a rise out of her to get his own selfish kicks. He'd seen a new side to her... was it him, or was that what Blaise had been describing about Daphne all those weeks ago in the Slytherin common room?

Of course, he hardly felt guilty for calling her Mudblood, and bullying her for years. That had been because of beliefs and ideals ingrained in him, values that even now he had trouble shrugging off, and it was hard for him to even register these things as wrong. But he did feel guilty for his more recent actions: the threatening, the verbal abuse, the near violence. Most of it had merely been a way to channel his aggression, he supposed. Every time he'd done something like that, she must have actually been hurt by it, or offended, but simple as that should have been to comprehend, up until now Draco had never understood. It was confusing and harrowing.

He looked up at her face: her eyes still were wide and concerned; her brow was furrowed and her front teeth were resting on her lower lip in concentration; a few tendrils of her hair had fallen loose from the whole and framed her face. Even with the tear tracks carving strange patterns across her cheeks, and her hair frizzier than it was normally, as though she'd been running her hands through it, she still oozed a kind of radiance Draco had never really noticed about her before. She could have been beautiful to him, even with red and puffy eyes, tear streaked cheeks and a glassy gaze, had she not been who she was.

"Why were you crying?" he asked, so quietly he was barely sure he had spoken, but her close proximity meant she heard him.

She looked up, her brown eyes curiously meeting his, establishing some kind of connection Draco couldn't even begin to understand; he only knew that part of him demanded he reject it.

"I mean," he added hastily, tearing his eyes away, "who made you cry? I should congratulate them."

Her hands fell away from his face and she sighed.

"I really can't deal with this right now. Not if you're going to keep being an utter prat to me, even after I've fixed your face-"

At the sight of her eyes glazing over and the small movement she made, as though to stand up, Draco felt compelled to stop her. He said nothing, but allowed his hand to graze her arm so lightly it was barely even a touch. It was enough to get her attention. She looked at him once more as he stared at her with his silver eyes trying to convey with his gaze what he could not say with words. He relaxed when she brought the damp robe back to his face.

"But seriously… why were you bawling?"

Granger stared fixedly at a spot near his cheek as though she couldn't meet his gaze and once more her eyes filled with unshed tears.

"Do you remember that time on patrol when you asked me where Harry and Ron were?"

Of course Draco remembered; how could he forget it? He nodded.

"Well then you should remember that I told you that I thought Professor McGonagall had lied to me about why she kept me here. Tonight I found out that she did. In fact, they've all been lying to me. All of them."

Tears began to slowly fall drip from her eyes and snake out more outlines on her face. He didn't have to ask to guess that 'them' was probably the Order of the Phoenix.

"They've kept me here for their own purposes and didn't even have the decency to tell me the truth… I was always supposed to go with the boys. Always. But now I'm stuck here, with no-one, just wondering if they're ok and if they'll be fine without me. It's no secret that I was the brains of the group. What if they get into trouble? Nobody thought about that beforehand. They need me," she wept quietly, somehow managing to seem composed even as she cried, "and how could I live with myself if they got hurt and I wasn't there? I'm sorry, I should stop crying. Especially to you," she murmured, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand and giggling weakly.

Even after silence fell, her tears didn't stop falling and Draco felt slightly uncomfortable, but obliged to take in her honest reply. Though of course he still didn't like Granger, her overwhelming current vulnerability was affecting him in ways he didn't really understand. All of her protective walls of wit and intelligence and lofty pride were gone and that left her as just a broken and lonely girl who felt betrayed and lost.

And it was awful. If Hermione Granger, know-it-all bookworm and strong, coolheaded brains of the Golden Trio was falling apart because of the stress the war was putting on her, what did that say for him? He was nowhere near as strong as she was - he'd realised this only minutes before - and it was really screwing with his head. He couldn't allow it to continue, he reasoned.

"I can't believe you," he muttered.

Instantly, all of her barricades were back up; her head snapped up and there was rage in her eyes.

"_You _can't believe _me?_ I never asked you to be concerned for me, Malfoy-"

"Just listen!" he interrupted, and she quietened. "I just can't believe that you, of all people, are letting this get to you. You're meant to be better than this, and I know you're stronger than this. You have to be if you're going to last even a second into this war. Where's the Hermione that fights back? If you're hurt, it isn't the end of the world. You have to get up and carry on. You've always been unflinching even in the worst of times; it's probably why Potty and the Weasel needed you so much. But if you start letting things like this get to you, you'll never survive the shit-storm that's coming towards us all. If you break now, what does that say to the rest of us? Those who aren't so strong? Think of this as good practise. You learn to get over these things that hurt you now so that when the bigger things happen, it's a little easier. Because there are… there are _some people_ who need you to stay strong. They look to you for hope that when things get bad, you can get out of it. If you aren't there, there's nothing for them to hope for. And that's when things start to slip. That's when people die, and the battles are lost."

Draco wasn't sure who he was giving the speech to by the end- himself or Granger- nor was he fully sure where all the words had come from; they'd just spilled out. He finally looked up at her and she was staring at him oddly.

"You called me 'Hermione,'" she said simply, her cheeks colouring slightly.

Draco was embarrassed. He hadn't realised.

"_That's _what you took from that little speech?"

"No- I-" She looked away as though unsure of what to say. "Thank you, I suppose. For… for putting things into perspective."

She wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

"It's alright," he replied awkwardly. He still felt odd, like he should do something more. "But since it seems you clearly can't take my insults at the moment, it seems I'll just have to cease them for the time being. Just until you sort out whatever mess you're in though," he added hastily. She smiled at him.

There was an odd kind of tension in the air that made Draco feel like he was being choked, or that the entire room had warmed up around him.

"The- er- the blood's all gone now," mumbled Granger quietly.

"Oh. Good. Thank you."

Draco didn't move, but kept his eyes locked on Granger's. She broke the gaze first.

"I'm going to go to bed then." She got up quickly.

"Oh, okay then," said Draco, standing also. They stared at each other again.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Without saying anything else, both walked to their bedrooms and closed the doors behind them, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

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><p><strong>I'm not going to lie, I love this chapter. Draco FINALLY has some kind of realisation about the real Hermione, and it paves the way for their relationship to develop... YAY. <strong>

**I'm sorry too about the huge internal monologue of Draco's in the middle. I've realised that some of them can get a bit lengthy but I couldn't resist, AND in this case it was totally necessary. I have begun to cut them down a bit in chapters I'm writing now, but I'm not going to stop them completely. Sometimes, you need them to give you some idea as to why characters are doing what they do. **

**Finally, thank you for reviewing if you were kind enough to take the time to do so, I enjoyed reading them as always :') Please review this chapter if you get time, and let me know what you think about it- especially the monologue. Thank you, and until next week, adios!**


	17. Date

**A/N- Hello everybody!**

**Well, revision is well and truly underway for my exams- my bedroom and my bathroom are plastered with posters for all my subjects and now I just have to learn the stuff... seriously, kill me. **

**But, I'm sorry to tell you all this, but this upload will mark the beginning of a two week waiting period between updates. If we don't, we'll run out of chapters and we might feel too obligated to write which will make LB less of a pleasure and more of a chore. We're sorry! However, on the plus side, you have this chapter and then one more before it's Christmas Eve at Hogwarts and if you've read our A/N's from the earlier chapters, you'll know that Christmas Eve promises to be a bit of a special day for our two young students. **

**As always, please please please review, we love getting them and if you take the time to do them we'll know exactly what you like/don't like. That's not to say we'll change the plot to suit you ;) but we do like the feedback. Anyway, enjoy.**

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><p>With a frustrated sigh, Hermione got out of bed, throwing back the covers and walking towards the window. She rested her forehead on the cool glass and looked out into the misty early afternoon. The various rooftops of Hogwarts that mapped out in front of her were just visible through what was left of yesterday's fog, but overall it still wasn't pleasant. Night had begun to fall fast nowadays and it was getting dark. Hermione closed her heavy and aching eyes and took a deep breath in. Her head was pounding.<p>

She opened her eyes again and began looking out at the landscape once more, like she was searching for something, perhaps clarity, in the grounds, as though she might find it there. From her window she could just make out the shadow of Hagrid's cabin silhouetted through the mist and the second she saw it her eyes began to sting with tears. Turning her back to the view she felt furious at herself for succumbing once more to waterworks and her sore eyes practically screamed in protest of the latest onslaught of weeping. She'd told herself to stop, but of course, that had been easier said than done. Not only had she spent the majority of last night crying quietly to herself, but she had gotten next to no sleep, and now her lids were heavy and her eyes raw. So much had been whirling around in her mind, but for the most part it was memories of her visit to Hagrid that had really kept her awake.

How could the Order have done that to her? It was the terrible reasoning and the lack of faith they had in Harry and Ron, not just the lie which had encompassed it. They'd lied to her for their own purposes and she'd swallowed it, hook, line and sinker. She'd left the boys alone thinking it was for the best when actually it was anything but. Hermione wanted to scream.

Not only that, but these were the people who were supposed to have the most faith in their cause and belief in Harry and Ron, and yet even they thought both would probably fail. It was disheartening. Was everyone in the Order stupid? If anything was likely to keep them alive it was her. How could she forgive herself if one of them got hurt… or worse? Apparently, the first thing the Order would do would be push her out into the world alone and have her carry on the mission. How could anyone have thought it up in the first place? It was just too fantastically cruel.

And then she really began to wallow in self-pity. Why had Hagrid told her? She knew why; because she'd pushed him to. Oh poor, loving Hagrid. She'd simply ran out on him last night with not an explanation nor an apology and she deeply regretted it. How dare the Order have put him in such an uncomfortable position, she thought. He'd feel awful for telling her, he'd have felt terrible when he couldn't tell her and now he'd be feeling upset with himself for breaking his promise to Dumbledore and the others. Hermione felt absolutely sick with sympathy for him. And it all stemmed back to the blasted Order of the Phoenix.

After her anger at the Order had come an overwhelming and aching sadness. For the first time she had been forced to acknowledge the very real possibility that the boys could die and it was as though she had begun to grieve for them already. She had cried until she simply felt numb, and then tortured herself for hours with images of endless scenarios where the boys were injured and she was unable to help them. The only way she could think to describe how she was feeling was that it was similar to when she had been close to a Dementor; she felt that nothing would ever make her happy ever again, and that all hope was lost entirely.

She spent most of her Saturday attempting to nap, sleeping fitfully and feeling more exhausted when she awoke than when she had lain down. It was only around mid-afternoon that she had slipped into slumber, and even then only for an hour. She'd tried to force herself to go back to sleep but it was no use. Dazed, tired and still feeling hopeless, Hermione got out of bed for what seemed like the hundredth time today. Unable to stay in her room any more she strode out into the common room, thinking vaguely that she should go down to the Great Hall and get something to eat.

Closing her door with a soft thud, she looked up and noticed Malfoy sat at his desk. He seemed to have been writing but he looked up upon her entrance and, after hesitating for a fraction of a second, one corner of his mouth twitched upwards into a small, tentative smile. Her mouth curled upwards too, responding instinctively.

Hermione had spent a sizeable portion of her time awake the previous night thinking about her encounter with him, it was true. She at first spent quite some time wondering why she hadn't told him that the Order had wanted someone to spy on him, eventually unpicking her reasoning around two a.m.. While he probably didn't think he was at the top of their list of favourite people, they'd offered him and his mother protection. Perhaps he was happy that he was no longer strictly classed as a bad person. She didn't want to tell him that she was supposed to have been his guard, just in case this was all true; she know knew how betrayal of the Order felt and certainly didn't wish it on him. She also couldn't believe Theo had attacked him when she had specifically told him not to do anything, and so of course with a guilty conscience she had rushed to his aid.

But he'd let her.

And then he'd asked her why she was upset and given her advice and called her by her first name… almost like he cared. He'd even pledged to drop his appalling behaviour. Was it all part of some kind of evil scheme of his? Hermione didn't think so. Had he perhaps then been touched by her concern for him? Had he matured and finally decided to stop being so petty?

It was confusing to try and fathom out how his brain worked but Hermione was just glad that it was something to distract her from her otherwise unpleasant thoughts.

Because what happened with Malfoy hadn't actually been unpleasant. Strictly speaking, it had not been very nice either, but it had been… Well, Hermione didn't even know. She had felt something in the air though, something she hadn't quite been able to put her finger on and something she barely recognized…

She was sure he had felt it too because the second she'd finished cleaning his face he'd rushed off too his room, just as she had. Malfoy had acted very peculiarly last night and mulling over it had added just one more thing to her list of reasons why getting to sleep had been impossible.

She realised that she had be stood smiling at Malfoy for the past five or so seconds as she had thought all this and it was beginning to get awkward. This whole situation was new to her and she wasn't sure what to do next – should she strike up a conversation with him? - and then a knock from outside the portrait hole rescued her from her confusion.

"I'll get it," she said politely, and Malfoy nodded courteously.

She made her way across the room and pushed open the portrait.

Hermione was hit with an overwhelming array of emotions in the two seconds it took for her to take in Theo's frame in the corridor; at first she was happy to see him, as always, and then she quickly remembered that she was mad at him… very mad. In fact, she was furious with him, as well as being totally confused as to why he was stood there. He had looked happy when she'd first opened the portrait, but as her arms folded across her chest and her face clouded, his grin dropped.

"Oh. It's you."

Theo seemed taken aback by her unenthusiastic greeting.

"Hello," he ventured nervously.

From behind her, Hermione heard the scraping of a chair across stone and the rustlings of parchment.

"I'll be going then," she heard Malfoy mutter, and if she hadn't been so angry she would have been surprised by his civility.

There was an intense silence as Hermione stared at Theo disapprovingly and he looked warily back.

"Are you ok?"

Hermione said nothing, and simply scowled at him.

"Do you want to tell me why you're mad at me?" he said, in what he obviously thought was a charming manner. Hermione was not amused.

"I think you know," she said coldly, turning her back on him and retreating into the common room. He followed her without waiting to be invited in.

"No, I really don't," he chuckled playfully, pulling the portrait shut and closing the gap between them. He caught her arm. "Come on Hermione-"

"What did I explicitly tell you _not_ to do?" she exploded, turning around and shrinking from his touch.

He looked very scared. "What?"

Hermione didn't want to play games. "I told you yesterday that I didn't want you to do anything to Malfoy, and guess what? He arrived back here last night with a bloody face and a broken nose!"

"Actually," he contradicted venomously, "if you recall you told me not to do 'anything stupid,' and I didn't. How was punching Malfoy stupid given the circumstances? He threatened you!"

The weaker side of her was flattered by his apparent chivalry, but her independence demanded she take a stand.

"That's beside the point! You still did it and it was entirely inappropriate and excessive! It isn't your place to... to 'protect' me or defend my honour, or whatever you thought you were doing, I can look after myself-"

"But what if I want it to be my place?"

Annoyingly, Hermione felt her anger begin to melt away at his words.

"What?"

"I said, what if I want it to be my place? What if I want to look after you and defend you and hurt the people who hurt you?" He slipped his hand into hers and she looked at him blankly, trying to hide the fact that her stomach seemed to be doing cartwheels. "Now if you're quite done yelling, I thought we might go on this date."

"Date?" she asked.

"The one we organised a few days ago? I was supposed to pick you up at four… that's why I'm here."

In light of recent events, Hermione had completely forgotten about her plans with Theo. Suddenly it all came rushing back to her.

"Oh yeah," she replied.

She blushed and turned away, but not before she caught sight of herself in the mirror on the opposite wall. She realised with a start that she was still wearing her sleeping clothes, her hair was even bigger than usual and her eyes were red and puffy. With a gasp, she pulled away from Theo and then ran towards her room. Once inside, she poked her head around the door as she pulled it to.

"Wait there! I'll be ten minutes!"

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><p>The minute he'd closed the door to shut himself in his room, Draco had set his papers down at his desk fully intending to finish his work. Fifteen seconds later, he'd heard Granger start shouting.<p>

"_What did I explicitly tell you_ not_ to do?" _

Normally, Draco was not one to eavesdrop. However, in this situation, he reasoned, he really couldn't help it.

He felt a smug smirk creep up on his lips as he imagined Granger's angry face, threatening stance and vicious glare, and all because of how Theo had threatened him. _My, how the tables have turned_, thought Draco in amusement. The whole situation, in actual fact, was highly entertaining.

And then just after Granger's next explosion had come Theo's stereotypical mushy speech- and a very sub-par one at that, thought Draco. It was far too sentimental and nowhere near as passionate as it should have been, not for Draco's taste anyway. Now if it had been him, he found himself thinking, he'd have been much more eloquent and original, and so irresistibly charming that Granger would have no choice but to forgive him… not that that would ever happen though, he thought hastily.

Annoyingly enough however, the shouting hadn't come again. After straining his ears to pick up the rest of the conversation, he became bizarrely irritated when he distinctly heard the word "date."

So Granger had forgiven him then? So quickly? He felt the beginnings of what could be rage burning under his skin, the heat emanating from his anger pricking his flesh all over and he suddenly felt a very powerful urge to sweep out of his room and hex Theo. If anyone should be arguing with Granger, it should be him. Not a real row, but one petty enough that it would garner an amusing response from her without it getting too painful. At least he knew how to do it right, and how to sustain an argument with her… although he wasn't supposed to be doing that with her anymore, was he? Then again, if it was just harmless teasing, some friendly banter, it would be alright…

Wait- what the hell was he thinking? How could he imagine such things, which, even if he wanted them, would be entirely fruitless? He was going crazy, he concluded, crazy from isolation and being trapped inside his own head, crushed under the weight of secrets that were not his own.

"_Wait there! I'll be ten minutes!" _

And then his smirk returned and he snapped out of his metal monologue as he imagined Granger frantically trying to get ready in just ten minutes. He heard her door slam and took it as a sign to return to his homework, and he resigned himself to another solitary night, but still with his smile on his lips. Over the past few days, Granger had made him smile more than he had in a long time, though he hadn't even noticed.

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><p>What seemed like a million candles floated in the warm night air around the hillside, their low, flickering glow rivalling that of the stars dancing above. Honeysuckle, moonflowers and a variety of magical night-blooming flowers that even Hermione couldn't name scented the warm air with their sweet perfume, and green grass lay like a carpet all the way down the rolling hills and valleys. As crickets chirped and owls hooted around her, it was hard for Hermione to believe that she was still in the castle and that it was almost winter.<p>

She and Theo were lying on their backs on a red gingham blanket, staring upwards at the unending ultramarine of space and bathing in the moonlight. They were enclosed in a circle of trees in the middle of a copse in what seemed like an endless meadow, the tips of the branches kissing the midnight sky above them. Food that had been snuck from the kitchens by Theo (as the room was apparently unable to provide it) had long since been finished and now both were content to lie in the Great Indoors for a while.

"Excellent choice for the Room of Requirement," muttered Hermione absently as a magical breeze tickled her hair as it pooled around her while she tried to pick out constellations in the sky.

"Why thank you. I didn't know for certain if you knew about this room though."

Hermione nodded.

"I'm willing to hazard a guess that it's something to do with that little club Potter was running in fifth year?"

Hermione giggled mellifluously. "Yes. It wasn't so much of a club, though, as it was... well, I can't really describe it. We were just a group. An army. Dumbledore's Army."

She smiled with nostalgia.

"Oddly enough, that's how I found out about here too."

"You weren't in the DA," she said, a tad confused.

"No, no, I know I wasn't. But Malfoy was in that Inquisitorial Squad thing of Umbridge's wasn't he? He told me a bit about the place after he helped to bust you all and then I sort of found it by accident later on. I was running away from Filch at night and I got a bit lost, and then all of a sudden this door just materialised in the wall so I jumped inside. Then I looked around and I was stood in a tiny little broom cupboard. After I left the door just vanished. A few days later I tried to find it again and eventually I did. But it was a different room this time. I figured out how to work it eventually."

She could tell without looking at him that he was smiling because of his tone. She wondered how many other non-DA students knew about the room. She was willing to bet that it wasn't many.

"Anyway, I just thought that since it's getting on for winter and it's hardly the weather to be outside I'd bring you a bit of summer."

Her smile faltered slightly but returned as quickly as it had slipped. She didn't want to think about summer. Summer was her and Harry and Ron at the Burrow; summer was their adventures and escapades and laughter; summer was their only partial freedom from the harshness of reality and their last summer had been spoiled. Summer was no longer pure and good as it had previously been.

Theo hadn't noticed her smile drop because he too was looking up.

"So tell me about this Christmas Ball thing."

"Oh, it's basically just the Yule Ball from fourth year without the Triwizard Tournament and no other schools."

"I didn't actually go to the Yule Ball."

"Didn't you?" asked Hermione in surprise. "Why not?"

"My father wanted me home. He's very... particular about spending the holidays with me."

"Oh. Well it's basically a formal dance. There's a dinner at small tables, not the house tables, live music, decorations, dancing -formal dancing to begin with but not for very long. It's a glorified party really. That's what they're attempting anyway. The whole point of the thing is to keep the mood light and pretend nothing is wrong when really it is."

She hadn't meant to sound so cynical but what she had said was truth; the whole thing was a pretence.

Trying to lighten the mood slightly, Theo turned his head a little more towards her. "So... do we have to have dates for it then?"

"We did last time... yes, I suppose so," she replied, still looking up and spotting with unease that the constellation Draco was right above her, looking down on her.

"Do you want to be mine?"

His head was flat on the blanket now, and he was looking straight at her. She turned to face him too.

Should she? If she did go with Theo, people would see them together; she would have to face gossip and rumours and multitudes of displeased students. And Ginny.

But she liked Theo, and she decided she was dead set on going to the ball with the person she liked, especially since she hadn't had the chance last time.

"Alright."

Theo smiled weakly as though he couldn't believe it. Her face began to light up too.

"Just for the ball?" he asked tentatively.

Hermione knew instantly she didn't just want it to be a temporary arrangement.

"It doesn't have to be."

"I don't want it to be."

"Neither do I," she whispered.

Without saying anything else, he rolled a little closer to her and kissed her gently on the tip of her nose, and for the first time since last night she stopped worrying about everything; the Order, the lies, Hagrid, Malfoy. She just intertwined her fingers with Theo's, reached over and pulled him closer for a kiss. Their lips met, the world melted away and Hermione lost herself in everything but Theo's touch.

For about a week Hermione was left feeling a strange mixture of things. She was happy, bathed in the wonderful feeling of the aftermath of her date with Theo, but still not as good as she could have been, having far too many things to think about for her own liking. By this point, winter could be felt everywhere the students of Hogwarts went; it really was just around the corner. The draughty corridors of the castle had turned into icy shells that nobody wanted to walk in unless they had cast a Warming Spell on themselves beforehand, and the greenhouses may as well have been made of frost. However, the weather had turned drier as November had wound on so if you were willing to brace the cold, the grounds were quite pleasant to walk across.

Ginny and Hermione were facing the cold on a Thursday evening after classes. The sky was threatening to suddenly turn dark, something it was doing often now, as though somebody in the sky had just turned a switch off, but for the moment it was still reasonably light. They strode down the steps at a brisk pace, not very cold with their house scarves and cloaks on.

"I quite frankly do not see the point in just walking to the lake and then walking back," said Hermione sullenly. She could have been inside eating some piping hot stew instead of having the icy cold wind whip her face.

"Fresh air is good for you. You could do with some."

"I'm not arguing that. It just seems a bit odd, that's all."

"Look, you can't stay cooped up in your dorm all day, although it seems like you've been trying. You'll go crazy," replied Ginny.

She was going crazy right now, thought Hermione. While she was happy she and Ginny were back to being friends again after their reconciliation in Hogsmeade, things were still tense. She hadn't been able to bring up her and Theo's new relationship because she didn't really know how Ginny would react… but she could guess. Ginny's first loyalty would be to her brother and she probably thought, along with the majority of people, that Hermione and Ron were somewhat of an item. Consequently, she and Theo had had to resort to secret liaisons in the library or in secluded corners of the grounds to meet up and talk or kiss or simply be around each other. Apart from that, their patrols were the only time they could spend alone with each other. They'd unofficially labelled the night of the ball as the day they would choose to publicise their relationship to the wider Hogwarts community, but Hermione hoped to tell Ginny by then.

"So who's taking you to the ball?"

Hermione was caught off guard, lost in her thoughts. "Oh, erm… I- I don't know." Not the right time, thought Hermione lamely as she ignored the opportunity to tell Ginny about Theo.

"Well, it's alright. Don't you fret, we'll find you someone."

"Oh, it's ok, I'm perfectly fine-"

"Rubbish, you can't go alone! We'll sort it, don't worry. So what are you wearing?" asked Ginny before Hermione could protest further.

"Dress robes?" replied Hermione questioningly, as though it was obvious.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"No Hermione, what colour dress robes?" she asked tiresomely, as though she was speaking to a child, a tone Hermione was not impressed by.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe blue again. I liked my robes last time."

"You can't wear the same robes again!" Ginny gasped, as though Hermione had just spoken of something truly horrendous. "You have to get new ones. You can get some with me on the next Hogsmeade trip. You need something that compliments your skin tone… probably pastel colours for you."

Hermione was not very happy with the topic of conversation.

"Light blue is a pastel colour."

"A different pastel colour," smirked Ginny. "Of course, it's harder for me because of this," she said, gesturing to her flaming red hair. "Most stuff clashes. Still, at least I'm allowed to get new robes this time. Mum had a bit of extra money since she only had to buy books and stuff for me this year and she said she'd get me something for being made Quidditch captain. I didn't know what I wanted so I told her to wait to get me something until I picked something but obviously when I heard about the ball the first thing I asked for were new dress robes. She said she'll owl me the money later this week so I can choose them myself."

Ginny said all this very fast and Hermione nodded, slightly dazed by her speed. She glanced around the grounds in boredom as Ginny began listing the pros and cons of various robe lengths and then caught sight of a hulking figure in the distance. There was no mistaking who the huge silhouette striding out of the Forbidden Forest belonged to- it had to be Hagrid. Hermione hadn't spoken to him since she'd visited him over a week ago; she'd avoided him when she saw him about the grounds or in the corridors and wasn't even able to meet his eye during meals when he looked over at her from the staff table, but she felt that the time had come for her to say something to him.

"Sorry Ginny, I have to see Hagrid about something. I'll meet you in the Hall in a bit."

Ginny nodded and so Hermione sped off towards Hagrid.

He was reasonably far away, so she broke into a run, the cold air whipping at her already red face as she hurried across the grounds, her scarf streaming out behind her like a banner.

Her voice carried through the cold air: "Hagrid! Hagrid!"

It appeared he hadn't heard her so she ran faster and continued calling his name. He finally responded and turned around as she felt the beginnings of a stitch forming in between her ribs. He visibly paled beneath his bushy beard ad unruly hair and looked more and more nervous the closer she got to him.

"Hagrid!" she panted, coming to a stop just in front of him. They were stood on the outskirts of the Forest, which, as always, was foreboding and filled with what seemed like an impenetrable blackness that was growing darker as the remaining daylight began to fade. Hagrid looked at her uneasily for a few seconds.

"Alrigh' Hermione?" was all he said.

She smiled weakly at his default greeting. "Yes, I'm fine… just a bit tired from all that running," she panted. "Listen, there's something I've been wanting to say to you-"

"Me firs'. I want ter say that I'm sorry fer… well, fer keepin' somethin' so horrible from yeh. I should'a told yeh but… I wasn' supposed ter. An' I didn' mean ter upset yeh." His beetle black eyes glazed over and a single oozing tear leaked out of his left. Hermione heart sunk. She hadn't realised how hurt he'd been by her reaction to his revelation.

"Oh Hagrid!" she cried, and then she seized him around the middle in an embrace. He patted her a little heavily on the back and sniffed.

"I was just about to apologise myself. I shouldn't have run off the way that I did. It wasn't your fault I was upset; you weren't supposed to tell me and I'm sorry for making you. You needn't feel bad."

His hold on her turned into a bone crushing squeeze and he released her just as she thought she heard her ribs crack.

"Yeh've got to know though, that the Order thought it was fer the bes'. Yeh shouldn' be mad at them fer tryin' ter do all they can ter help."

"I do know that. But it's the fact they hid the truth from me and how little faith they seem to have in the boys that hurts the most. Anyway, it's done now. The past is the past. I'm here and I can't change anything. What've you been doing in the forest?"

"Jus' went visitin' Grawpy. He's doin' well. Ran into some o' the centaurs on the way though," he added with a frown. "Still not too happy with any o' us, even me. Bane weren't too pleased ter see me. An' they managed to be their normal selves, babblin' on abou' the stars. Something abou' dark times on the horizon, as if that weren't obvious enough. Still, when they say horizon they could mean anythin' from tomorrow ter ten years in the future."

Hermione tried to supress some concern; despite Hagrid's nonchalance and her distrust of such imprecise branches of magic as stargazing, when it came to reading the heavens, centaurs tended to be very accurate. Dark times were no doubt looming so their message was hardly a surprise, but Hermione couldn't help but fear that they would never have said anything if it had not have been of some significance.

"Speakin' o' stars, they're comin' out. Yeh shouldn' be out at night Hermione, especially not now. C'mon."

He strode towards the castle and she trotted alongside him, almost jogging to keep up with him. He left her at the front doors and they bade each other goodnight, and then instead of going to dinner she decided to go back to her dorm. She felt lighter and happier now she and Hagrid had fixed things; she was still angry and sad after everything, but Hagrid had merely been the messenger and she didn't want there to be any ill-feelings between them.

Things were far from perfect, but they were at least bearable, and Hermione was just grateful for that.

She stepped into the common room and glanced around. Malfoy was there and she was glad because she needed to speak to him. When the portrait clicked shut he looked up from his desk and they exchanged one of their recent half-smiles of greeting.

"Hello," she said politely, walking into the middle of the room.

"Evening," he replied. "Do you want me for something?"

"Just some ball stuff. There's a couple of things I want to go over."

"Sure."

He got up from his desk and sat down in a large leather armchair. He looked at her oddly.

"Aren't you going to sit down?"

"Oh… yes." She sat.

Since the night where she had tended to him, the atmosphere between them had remained rather awkward, as though both had done something wrong and was waiting for the other to snap at them for it.

They spent some time discussing finer details of the ball; boring, trivial things which Hermione felt necessary and that probably meant nothing to Malfoy, but he listened politely and gave her feedback when necessary. Their truce was bizarre, but Hermione found that so far it had worked in her favour. About fifteen minutes after arriving, she stood up.

"Right, I think we're about done here," she said with a smile. "The only thing left to plan is the prefects to help us set up on the day, and then we're actually finished."

"I don't want Theo to be one of the prefects in the team," said Malfoy quickly.

"Why? This is a little childish, don't you think?"

"I don't care, I just can't work with him. Think of all the arguments we'll have."

"Good point," said Hermione warily. "Fine, I won't include him. We'll just pick the five or so most helpful ones then."

He nodded, then smiled. "One last request?"

"What?"

"No Lavender Brown. She drives me mental enough on patrol."

Hermione smiled broadly in spite of herself.

"Don't worry about that one; I'm not her biggest fan myself."

She nodded her goodbye and then left to get dinner. Malfoy's manner recently was certainly preferable to his usual awfulness, but it was still strange to behold.

* * *

><p><strong>The last little bit was sort of tagged on the end of this chapter when I was separating what I'd written into chapter sized chunks- it was so short that it didnt really warrant a chapter of its own, and it didnt fit with the next one so I mushed it into this one :) It wasn't that mismatched, right?<strong>

**PLEASE REVIEW. If you do we'll love you eternally and the cracks in our hearts caused by exams and boys (*Violin plays* Oh, our lives are SO hard... not) heal a little bit ;)**

**WE LOVE YOU ALL FOREVER, AND SORRY FOR MAKING YOU WAIT! Mwah. **


	18. Jealousy

**A/N - Hello my darlings! Oh, it's been too long. It's only the first time and I already hate this two week waiting period. I miss my Friday uploads :( **

**Ahh well, needs must. AND even with revision me and Nicole are still managing to write about a chapter a week. So many good chapters coming your way. I seem to be bombarded with good ideas every time I have a bath or a shower or I'm just about to go to sleep and when I relay them to Nicole she gets super happy. If only I could write Dramione and do nothing else :( I wish. **

**Anyway, eleven days until my first exam, fifty-three until my last and I literally cannot wait for it to all be over. Anyway, enjoy this, the last chapter before Christmas Eve. Please don't forget to review if you find a spare minute because they are always beautiful distractions in a sea of revision. I love you all eternally. **

* * *

><p>"I'm sick of you acting like this!" Granger yelled.<p>

They were fighting over something trivial in the common room once again.

"What happened to your promise not to be such an idiot to me anymore?"

Her eyes had the same fire in them that they always had whenever she got like this with him.

"Oh come on Granger," replied Draco silkily, "I don't think either of us expected that to last very long."

She groaned throatily in anguish and then moved very close to him, so close that they could have touched noses if she was a little bit taller. She looked deeply into his eyes as her chest heaved rapidly, a scowl on her face. Draco could barely conceal his own amused smirk.

"I hate you," she said.

"And I loathe you."

But then before he could help himself he'd grabbed her, cupped either side of her face with his hands, and kissed her. He pulled her into him, smothering her lips with his before she could object or whimper any kind of protest. To his surprise she did not struggle, and instead pulled him in deeper, closer, harder, her lips pressed softly but passionately against his. Their bodies fit together so perfectly it was almost crazy. He grabbed a fistful of her brown hair and she grabbed his neck to pull him in closer… his tongue licked at her lower lip, seeking entry and was welcomed eagerly… and then… and then…

Draco awoke with a start in a cold sweat. Grey daylight flooded the room around him. _What the fuck? _What had just happened? He felt almost sick. His dream… something about his dream…

He sat up in his bed and ruffled his untidy hair with one hand. The green sheets around him were messy and creased, like he'd been tossing and turning in the night. He felt confused but he was having difficulty pinpointing why. Grasping around his brain for fragments of his dream he suddenly remembered what his subconscious had played for him only a few minutes before.

He'd been dreaming about kissing Granger.

And not only that… he realised that he'd gotten a little too excited over it. He became acutely aware that his green boxer shorts, the kind he usually wore to bed, were damp and sticky on one spot on his crotch. _Oh no, _he thought. Had he really just woken up from a wet dream about Hermione fucking Granger?

At the thought his brain decided to play back what he could remember about the dream… her hands on his neck… his fingers in her hair… He felt a twinge in his groin.

"Fuck!" he yelled.

Storming out of his bed, he picked up his dressing gown from the back of his door and wrapped it around himself before peeling off his underwear with some difficulty. He threw them to the opposite side of the room in disgust, as though they had betrayed him somehow, before walking cautiously into the common room.

He guessed it was around ten o'clock, judging from the level of daylight in the room, and the subject of his dream was either still in bed or she'd gone for breakfast. And it was a good job too. Draco's robe was not doing a good job of hiding his erection.

He shut himself in the bathroom before removing the robe and magically turning on the shower. It started up instantly, and he braced himself before stepping into the cold stream inside the cubicle. He let out a not-very-manly yell as the icy water hit his pale skin, springing goosebumps up all over and making his hair stand on end, but it did the trick and within seconds the awful evidence of his residual arousal had vanished. With that problem solved, Draco jumped out of the shower, grabbed his wand from by the sink and quickly made the water hot before jumping back into the spray.

The sensation now was much more enjoyable. As the stream pounded over him, he tried to relax his muscles since he had tensed up quite considerably without realising. He rested his head against the cool tile of the bathroom wall and concentrated on unclenching one part of his body at a time.

It wasn't as if this was the first dream he'd had about Granger, if he was being honest with himself. He'd tried to forget about them and lock them in a box in the back of his head, but this one had been so vivid it was impossible to hide from. Since he'd taken his vow to be nicer to her in a spur of the moment decision when he had been overcome by her openness, he'd had a recurring dream about her. He and she were always lying on his bed, on top of the green and silver sheets; she had her head on his chest with her eyes closed and he simply looked at her. There was nothing else, only him watching her. While this had been disturbing enough, it was relatively easy to dismiss them given their lack of content… but he'd never had a dream where he'd kissed her before. Until now. This was definitely a first. He just wished he could work out why.

He got out of the shower and wrapped a white towel around his waist, and used another to dry his hair rather viciously, as though he was trying to absorb the dreams along with the water.

It wasn't as if he liked her. He'd adapted to her perhaps, and had begun to be able to tolerate her certainly, and it was true that for whatever reason, he'd agreed to be nice to her. He'd even been polite and calm around Theo when they'd had their detention with McGonagall for the fight, just so she wouldn't get mad. But he did not like her. So that should rule out the possibility of his dreams expressing some kind of hidden desire of his because he definitely _did not _want to kiss her. He looked up at his reflection in the steamy mirror, blurry and out of focus just like his current state of mind. A single drop of condensation dripped down the glass, snaking out a trail so he could get a glimpse of a lone grey eye looking worriedly back at him. Gripping the sink tightly, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to clear his head. It was impossible. It was like he'd broken some kind of seal in his mind and now she was always there, bobbing around on the periphery of his thoughts.

If he didn't like her then why was he having the dreams? There was no other explanation, except maybe that he had been starved of human contact for too long, or perhaps he was simply going crazy. Draco didn't know which of the options he preferred.

Keeping the towel round his waist, he used his wand to send the other to rest neatly on the towel rack where he had found it, and then he wandered out into the common room. To his dismay, Granger was there, which he found out as he almost collided with her as she apparently tried to enter the bathroom. It seemed she had just woken up; her hair was bushier than normal, her eyes were still puffy from sleep, and she was yawning.

"Sorry!" she gasped, bringing a hand up to his bare and damp chest to stop herself from falling into him and then retracting it quickly when she found herself touching warm flesh, not cloth. He watched as she coloured crimson and looked down at the floor, apparently unable to look at him in his absence of clothes, and even with his terrible mood from the morning he couldn't help but smirk.

"Don't worry about it."

There was an awkward silence and despite his mood, Draco couldn't help but exploit it.

"Off for a shower?"

"Yes… Yes I was. I see you've clearly already had yours."

She still couldn't meet his eye and she was now gazing outside of the window at the snow that Draco had only just noticed.

"I have. Nothing like a nice shower in the morning. It gets the blood pumping, doesn't it? Plus, it washes away all manner of sins," he smirked malevolently. "I think it's just the feeling of the running water hitting you all over, stimulating all the senses, which makes it that much better than lying idle in the bath."

He noticed with amusement that her cheeks were now flaming at his suggestiveness. Clearly his words were embarrassing her. Was she perhaps imagining him naked, with water pounding down all over him? He almost laughed.

"Yes, I suppose… erm… well; don't forget that I need you to pick up some stuff for the ball from Hogsmeade today. I would but I'll be…otherwise occupied."

Draco wondered what she'd be doing. Rendezvousing with Theo? He felt a burning near his stomach.

"Of course. Well, enjoy your shower."

Placing a light hand on her shoulder, he sidestepped around her but couldn't resist one last quip before going back to his room.

"Oh!"

She turned around.

"Do you need a towel?" he asked playfully, his hand hovering just above where his towel joined closed around his torso.

"No! There's some in here, thank you!" she squeaked, before practically running into the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind her. Draco began laughing softly as he whipped the towel off and wandered, naked and smug, back into his room. He'd almost forgotten why he'd felt so crappy when he'd woken up.

Almost.

* * *

><p>"What about these?"<p>

Hermione looked up when Ginny stepped out of the changing cubicle for the seventh time. She was wearing a set of bright red dress robes and an expression of pure desperation. The robes fit her nicely and could have looked pretty if it weren't for the fact that they clashed horrifically with her hair.

"No. Red isn't a good colour for you either," sighed Hermione.

Ginny groaned and stepped back into the changing room. A few seconds later the unattractive robes were flung out of the room and landed haphazardly on top of a pile of other rejected garments.

"Maybe the next ones," Hermione heard Ginny mumble.

"Well you know what they say," she muttered absently, "eighth time lucky…"

They'd been in Gladrag's since the second they'd gotten into Hogsmeade, and that had been about three hours ago. It wasn't like they were the only ones in the shop – they by no means were, it was packed with Hogwarts girls and a few of the males – but it was just that Ginny's method of shopping was frustrating and laborious.

First they'd had to look around the whole shop, which should have taken a few minutes, yet it took Ginny an hour and a half while she picked up what seemed like hundreds of dress robes from the rails and handed them to Hermione who appeared to have been designated as Ginny's personal shopping basket. Once they'd finally made it to the changing rooms and had found a spare cubicle, Ginny had begun the lengthy process of trying on dresses. It seemed she had a routine: first, she would put it on and mumble to herself about it for a few minutes; then, below the stall door, Hermione would see her feet prance about as she examined the dress in the changing room mirror at various angles; and then finally, she would open the door and stand there, awaiting Hermione's opinion, as it seemed she had the final decision.

She had completed this ritual for the next dress, as the door flew open once again.

"This one?"

It was a yellow affair, all ruffles and frills and lace. The skirt was so voluminous that it resembled some kind of fabric meringue; it was hideous.

"No," said Hermione firmly, and Ginny's face fell again.

"Ugh!"

She slammed the door shut behind her; two minutes later the offensive dress went sailing through the air and landed amongst the rest of the bad robes. Hermione tutted and began picking them up, dusting them off and placing them back on their hangers.

"I hate this. Why is everything so difficult for me?"

Hermione had to supress a scathing remark; Ginny had no idea how easy it was for her presently. Finding a pretty dress was nowhere near as difficult as Hermione's problems.

"It's fine for you. You suit everything. Oh!" she cried out suddenly, "we haven't picked you anything out!"

Hermione rolled her eyes but tried to keep her voice light.

"Don't worry about it."

"No, we have to pick you something nice. Here," she replied, stepping out of the cubicle, "why don't you go find some dress robes you want to try on?" She smiled, and then thrust a dress into Hermione's arms. "And while you're there, fetch me this in the next size down. They're too big. Thank you!"

It seemed she had no choice but to wander back into the shop and browse the robes, but she had other things she needed to do.

"I'll go, but give me a minute. I need to go to the post office," she replied.

"Okay. But hurry up!"

Hermione left Ginny's dress with the woman behind the counter for safekeeping and then left the shop, stepping into the cold. Snow was swirling down in tiny flakes of white all around, just like it had been that morning. It was not heavy though some had stuck to the cobbles on the streets in a slushy mess, and many footprints had left wet impressions in it. She crossed the street and passed The Three Broomsticks, arriving at the post office and stepping inside. It was warm and smelled of droppings and straw, just like the Owlery at Hogwarts. Soft hoots and loud screeches echoed all around the space, adding to the din of the many people inside sending off Christmas presents and cards to loved ones, just like Hermione was planning to do.

After a short wait, Hermione was served by a small plump woman with few teeth but a warm smile.

"Hello dearie, what can we do for you?" she rasped with a grin.

Hermione reached into her bag for a large parcel containing presents for the Weasleys: chocolates and a set of new knitting needles for Mrs Weasley, a collection of rubber ducks for Mr Weasley, and sweets for the rest of the family, to thank them for their kindness in the summer holidays.

"I need something that can carry this all the way to Ottery St. Catchpole, please."

The woman whistled through the gaps in her few teeth. "You'll want something like a Great Grey then. They tend to cope better at long distances. They are a little more expensive than most though," she smiled, somewhat apologetically.

"It's fine."

The woman busied herself preparing the package to be sent off as Hermione filled in the address slip.

"Anything else?"

"Actually, yes. Could I get another owl to Ottery St. Catchpole please, but separately?" she asked, pulling out another slightly smaller parcel.

It was another gift, but this time it was more of an apology than a Christmas present. Beneath the brown parcel paper was a Broomstick Servicing Kit, the same as the one she'd bought Harry for his birthday a few years ago. She'd once heard Fred say he was extremely jealous of it, and when she'd seen it in a catalogue she'd ordered it, despite the expense. Fred still had not replied to any of her frequent letters, and she hoped that this would at least go some way towards mending their relationship. Enclosed was also a private Christmas card apologising for her behaviour and asking his forgiveness. It had been over a month since their kiss, but she still felt guilty.

"Certainly. Would you prefer a barn owl or a tawny for this one?"

"Either."

The woman smiled and weighed the second parcel, and then Hermione filled in the slip. She paid (the woman had not been exaggerating when she had said the Great Grey was expensive) and then left the little post office.

As she walked back to Gladrag's, she wondered whether Fred would finally reply to her when he received the parcel; she sincerely hoped he would. Suddenly, she was startled by a tapping on her shoulder. She almost dropped her bag and whipped her head around to see Theo stood smiling at her. She glanced around but saw no-one else, and so she took his hand and her pulled her round the side of the shop. They were now enclosed in a side-alley, almost totally obscured from view. Unless someone knew exactly where to look, they wouldn't be seen.

"Hi," she smiled.

"Hello you," Theo replied with an equally happy grin, before capturing her lips in a sweet, tender kiss.

She was shivering with cold when he released her, having left her cloak in the shop, and so he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

"Having fun shopping?" he asked teasingly.

"Not really. It's a bit of an ordeal. Everyone's going crazy about the ball."

"We should be as well you know, given that we're sort of making _this_ public then," said Theo, indicating their embrace with a nod.

"Oh, I am, I'm just…"

"Nervous?"

"Yes. And angry actually. I don't see why others should care at all what we do. We shouldn't have to be nervous," she said.

"Unfortunately, it seems we do. But about the ball…" he began, before trailing off and looking unhappy.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Remember on our date when I told you I didn't go to the ball last time because my dad wanted me to spend the holidays with him?"

"Yes?"

"Well... he wants me to go home for Christmas this year too."

Hermione's heart sunk. She pushed him away.

"Oh. Then why did you bring up the ball and us if you knew you weren't going to be here? What was the point?" she asked sourly.

"Hermione... I wouldn't go if it wasn't something important. You just... can't really say no to my dad."

Hermione shook her head.

"Hey?" said Theo, tilting it upwards. "I promise I'll do everything I can to get back here, even if it's just for the ball. I won't let you go alone. You're still going with me, I swear. If you'll still have me?"

He looked so disappointed that she couldn't say no.

"As long as you're there, I'll go with you."

He kissed her forehead and pulled her close.

"I just want this to be over. The secret meetings, hidden kisses, sneaky glances across rooms. I just want to be with you," he whispered into her hair.

"Me too."

They stood for a little while, hugging in the snow, and then they said their goodbyes and Hermione went back into the shop, picked up some dresses at random, picked up Ginny's smaller dress and took them back to the changing room.

"There you are!" said Ginny when she walked in. "I was starting to think you'd gotten lost."

"No, I knew exactly where I was," she smiled.

They spent more time finding Ginny a dress, though she was in a slightly better mood after seeing Theo. They finally found one, Ginny paid for it, and then she insisted on making Hermione try on her dresses.

Another hour later, Hermione was annoyed again. She had no idea why some girls found this kind of thing entertaining. Sliding a maroon number on over her head, she opened the door and waited for Ginny's approval.

"Ew, no. That's disgusting."

Hermione sighed and stepped back into the tiny stall that had now become her prison. She shed the maroon gown and picked another at random from the several draped over the cubicle wall.

"The problem for you is, once we've picked the right dress that's one problem solved, but then we still have to find you a date. You're cutting it a bit fine though. There's barely even a week and a half to go."

She didn't want to talk about this right now. "Well why is it just a problem for me? What about you?"

"I have a date. Colin."

"Colin who?"

"Colin Creevey." Hermione's jaw practically fell to the floor. At her silence Ginny continued. "It had to be someone Harry wouldn't get jealous of when he finds out... Now who can you go with that Ron wouldn't be jealous of?"

Her stomach churned uneasily. So Ginny was still under the impression that Ron and she were an item? Hermione couldn't blame her. It was possible enough. It seemed the time had come to finally tell Ginny about Theo. As Hermione's friend, she hoped that she would have the decency to respect her judgement.

She stepped out of the changing room in a peppermint green dress. Ginny's face lit up.

"This is the one. Now, we just need to find you a date who's wearing something that compliments green. Somebody wearing white. Or maybe silver. I wonder what colour Neville's wearing? Ron wouldn't mind you going with Neville, would he?" Ginny asked with a smile.

"Actually," ventured Hermione apprehensively, "I really don't think it matters what Ron would think about my date."

She took a deep breath as Ginny's eyes snapped to hers suspiciously.

"Why not? Of course it matters," she said, her voice taking on a stiff edge.

"Because... well, Ron and I... we... we aren't really like you and Harry are," Hermione replied lamely.

"Well it seems like you are. And I'm pretty sure my brother thinks you are." Her voice was cold; Hermione regretted saying anything but it was far too late to take anything back now.

"Just because he thinks we're together doesn't mean we are. We have to both think it, and I don't. So surely it doesn't matter what he thinks about who I date," she reasoned carefully.

"So who are you going to go with then?" asked Ginny with a cold stare.

"I sort of already have a date."

"Who?"

Hermione took another deep breath.

"Theodore Nott."

There was a very long, icy silence.

"Wow, Hermione," muttered Ginny disbelievingly, shaking her head. "I can't believe you'd sink that low."

"He's actually a really nice person-"

"Theodore Nott? As in, the son of the Death Eater? Oh yes, I'm sure he's wonderful! With a father like his, how could he be anything but pleasant?" she snapped sarcastically, gesticulating wildly as she spoke.

Hermione stayed silent. Of course Ginny was reacting this why. Why had she thought otherwise? She looked up at her friend and noticed with unease that her eyes were glistening.

"You know, Harry and Ron are alone somewhere right now, doing I don't know what to defeat You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters. And you pick one of their _sons _to date." She shook her head again angrily and backed away. "Just don't speak to me, Hermione. Don't even bother."

Then she grabbed her dress and ran out of the shop, leaving Hermione stood in her own gown feeling like a total fool.

* * *

><p>While Hermione had been watching Ginny try on multitudes of dresses, Draco was drumming his fingers impatiently on the counter top of Dervish and Banges, not that he knew where Hermione was. He was waiting for the shop assistant to return from the depths of the store room; he'd been gone for ten minutes now and for that portion of time Draco had succumbed to his brains insane desire to replay last night's dream on a loop- as if he wasn't already pissed off enough.<p>

"Sorry for the wait, pal," said the shop assistant, finally strolling back behind the shop counter.

His floppy brown hair and vicious red acne told Draco he was probably only just out of Hogwarts himself. His brown eyes were oddly reminiscent of Granger's, yet where hers were full of bright eagerness and warmth, his exuded only a mischievous twinkle. Four large brown boxes floated behind him and then stacked themselves neatly on the counter in a pile nearly as tall as Draco, whose eyes widened in disbelief; did Granger really expect him to carry all that? His hands were already full of bags of magical plant seeds, boxes of sweets from Honeydukes and various other packages.

The boy behind the counter looked up.

"That's your order of-" He consulted the form in his hands. "-three thousand mixed candles."

_Three thousand? _Draco wondered what Granger was planning to do with that many candles.

"And that's for... Miss H. Granger." The youth smiled toothily then surveyed Draco. "You ain't Miss Granger, are you?"

"No I'm not," said Draco haughtily. "I'm collecting the packages on her behalf."

"Does she know?"

"Of course she knows, otherwise she wouldn't have sent me."

"I s'pose," said the boy with a shrug. "Right then, just sign 'ere. We will be sending Miss Granger a notice of collection to notify 'er that you've collected 'er parcel. It's company policy in case you don't actually know 'er and you're nicking 'er stuff."

Draco looked at the boy as though he was dim.

"Why would I bother to steal three thousand candles? What could I possibly do with that many stolen candles?"

"Search me." He shrugged again. "Right, all that seems to be in order. Ahem," he coughed, clearing his throat and standing up straight. "Well: thank you for your patronage, and we 'ope you visit us again," he smiled, sounding rather like his farewell was rehearsed- which, Draco reminded himself, it probably was.

Now he faced the challenge of trying to carry all of his collections back to the castle. He was fumbling for his wand in his robes to levitate the various boxes and bags when he managed to drop all that he was holding. He sighed in irritation and began collecting them back up when the boy spoke.

"You, er... you been collecting all this for Miss Granger then?" He was eyeing Draco curiously.

"Yes."

"What for?" he asked.

"The Christmas Ball up at the castle. Not that it's any of your business."

"Oh," said the boy.

Draco had picked up all of his packages and was preparing to leave.

"So... where is Miss Granger? Why can't she pick up 'er own stuff?"

"She's busy."

Draco was getting bored of the boy's questions.

"Well... I 'ope your girlfriend appreciates it then," he said cheekily as he saw Draco reach for the doorknob as his packages drifted lazily behind him. He tensed up.

"She isn't my girlfriend."

"Not yet, I bet, eh?" asked the boy with a wink. "Tryna impress her, are we? Tryna charm your way into 'er 'eart?"

"Oh piss off," Draco snapped irritably as he left the shop.

What an annoying wizard that boy had been. And stupid too. Who in their right mind would steal candles? Not to mention what he'd said about Granger...

Draco's boxes were now suspended in mid-air about three meters in front of him. He was pretty sure that he'd collected everything he was supposed to; he'd been to Honeydukes, Dogweed and Deathcap, Wiseacre's, and now Dervish and Banges, but he wanted to be quite sure he'd gotten everything before he made his way back to the castle since he did not relish the idea of trailing back to the village in the dark for some obscure, forgotten item.

He began scanning the shops around him, mentally checking off those he'd been in, when something caught his eye- two figures in a tight embrace in the alleyway beside Gladrag's. He was surprised he'd even spotted them at all, they were so well concealed, but he couldn't help but look at them now he'd noticed them. Something about the shorter of the two figures was familiar... and then she turned round and Draco realised why.

It was Granger - _how__ bad was she at hiding when she kissed someone_, thought Draco? - which meant her counterpart could only be Theo, and it was like the Weasley situation all over again. His concentration snapped like a rubber band that had been stretched too far, and all of his items tumbled to the slushy ground. Draco could feel heat bubbling away inside him like lava was eating up his guts and bile churned angrily in his stomach; he could see only flashing white spots of blindness and he could hear his own heartbeat thumping in his ears... He was going to march over there right now and smash Theo's face into a bloody pulp-

And then he caught himself. Why on Earth did he feel like this? This wasn't normal. Seeing Granger with Theo should not provoke this type of reaction. It was insanely possessive of him, too territorial by far, much too... jealous?

Was he jealous because he could see Granger with Theo? It certainly seemed so. Added together with his dreams and you could be mistaken for thinking that he fancied Granger...

"Fucking hell," said Draco out loud.

Did he like Granger? All of the evidence pointed to an affirmative answer but every ounce of his better nature was repulsed by the very notion. How could he like someone who he knew for a fact he despised? Was it possible? Apparently so. It would certainly explain some of his earlier behaviour, like that time he'd rescued her during her fight with Pansy. Or when he'd agreed with Blaise that he thought she was hot. Or when-

He cut off his own thoughts. There were too many instances that validated his idea for him to stomach.

Shocked and silent, Draco levitated his packages once more and trudged along the worn pathway back to school. This was a dilemma he had never anticipated.

_Still, _he thought, _there was no need to worry. _This was merely a theory, and he had no hard evidence to back it up. So he'd had a few silly dreams and a burst of anger when he'd seen her with Theo- the dreams probably meant nothing and the anger was because Theo was being a twat. Yet he couldn't shake the stark possibility of this idea he'd conjured up that now flashed and sparked in his head like some kind of firecracker. There had to be a way to disprove his own hypothesis.

By the time he'd got back to the castle, he knew exactly what he had to do.

* * *

><p><strong>Me and Nicole know you'll hate us for teasing you with that chapter opening. We're so sorry... we're evil, we know.<strong>

**Also, the Dervish and Banges boy reminds us of Stan Shunpike. You should hear the way I read his voice to Nicole, it's hilarious. She loves that part. REMEMBER HIM. **

**I love you all but you'll win my entire, lifelong devotion if you review. Just a bit pathetic of me, I know, but pretty please?**


	19. Choice

**Hello my darlings! ****Well, we are now OFFICIALLY into my exams. One down (RE), eleven to go, and as each one passes I get a little happier :') Nicole has far less than me, lucky bugger. As usual, thank you all for your reviews :) We love love love them. ****LB news, in case you were interested:**

**1. The typed up version has now passed 100 thousand words and 200 pages on Microsoft Word, and the paper version is now into the third A4 notepad... How insane are we? We've stockpiled so many chapters now that it's hard to comprehend how far behind you all are...**

**2. Last week I wrote a monumental plot point. It's been giving me (but not Nicole, she refuses to acknowledge it) a lot of trouble, but I hope it will be worth it. I hope you'll all love it, but sadly you'll have to wait a while as it's going to be about chapter 27ish that you'll see it... Plus, we've now timelined the rest of the plot, so much left for you all. We told you it'd be a drawn out one! **

**Fuck me, I've rambled on too long... Here's where we find out what Draco's plan is. Review, it helps keep me motivated- I'm stuck in a bit of a rut now with writing the next part... **

* * *

><p>Christmas Eve dawned bright and cold, but even the chill in the air couldn't dampen the buzz around Hogwarts. It was as though the atmosphere in the Great Hall was a living creature itself, so intense was the hum of talk over breakfast; talk of dresses, shoes, dates and dancing preoccupying most of the conversation.<p>

The usual twelve Christmas trees had been dragged into the Hall a week or so ago by Hagrid, as always, and were bedecked with all manner of magical decorations. For once, however, festive chatter was largely overshadowed, with talk of the impending ball favoured by students.

Hermione was sat alone, not joining in with the enthusiastic conversations going on around her. Neville had tried to engage her but she'd been deliberately non-responsive, so he'd given up. The hall was fuller than it usually was during the holidays since so many students had chosen to stay behind because of the ball. Very few had gone home, although one of the minority had been Theo, who had left five days ago now to go back to his father. He'd left her with a kiss and the promise that he'd somehow manage to get back for the ball, but even with this in mind, Hermione was not overly enthused towards it.

When Dumbledore stood up to address the students, silence fell quicker than Hermione had expected it to, given the incredible volume. She was possibly the only person in the room who was not eagerly anticipating the forthcoming evening, and was instead silently willing it to hurry up and be over with.

Perhaps it was because she was the only one who wasn't mentally preoccupied that she was the only one who noticed how unsteady the Headmaster seemed on his feet; how his right arm hung limply at his side; how pale and drawn he looked. Hermione was startled.

Of course, Dumbledore was of a considerable age - one could tell simply by looking at his grey beard and hair - but he had never before seemed old. He had always exuded youth and joy and effervescence, never illness or age. Something was wrong with him, dreadfully wrong. But Hermione was the only person who could see it. Everybody else in the Hall simply looked up at him, faces shining with anticipation and vision clouded with excitement. It scared her.

"Good morning to you all, and Merry Christmas! Or should I say, Merry Christmas Eve?" He smiled, but Hermione noticed that even that seemed a little painful. "No doubt you are all excited for this evening's festivities, as are all your professors," he said, using his left arm to indicate his fellow staff; some did indeed look happy, whereas others, such as McGonagall, did not. "I am only making a few small announcements, each of which concern tonight's ball.

"Firstly, lunch will be available to you all as normal, but no students, except those with expressed permission, may enter this room after twelve thirty. Incidentally, the ball will commence at seven o'clock precisely, at which time you are welcome to enter the room once more. Finally, this evening looks set to be a huge success, and it is largely down to the efforts of our Head Boy and Girl. Well done to Miss Hermione Granger, and Mr Draco Malfoy."

The room erupted into applause - Dumbledore did not clap, and instead tapped his left hand against his right forearm, as though he couldn't lift it. Then he sat down, the clapping died away, and the crashing waves of conversation took over once more.

By lunchtime the majority of the students could barely contain their excitement. Equally, it appeared the clouds could not contain their precipitation any longer, for it began to snow. As the clock turned twelve thirty and the last of the dining students left the Hall, either to enjoy the snow or for the more enthusiastic students, to begin getting ready, Hermione was left alone with a group of eight prefects. Malfoy was noticeable only by his absence.

She set her task force to work at first assembling and moving tables, then enchanting the magical mistletoe and holly plants she had purchased into exquisite wreaths and garlands. Later, she set Padma Patil and Ernie Macmillan to work levitating candles into strategic places, and she alone entrusted herself with the job of setting up the stage where the band would play.

While Hermione knew much of the work could have been completed much quicker with some extra magic (and some of the Prefects seemed to think so too, and grumbled about it under their breath), she had purposely kept the tasks as hands-on as possible so she could occupy herself. The past week had been harder than she had expected.

She had never spent a Christmas so alone. Her parents were on the other side of the world, her best friends were either in mortal peril in some desolate field somewhere or were ignoring her, and to top it all her boyfriend was at home with his own family. And now, having noticed Dumbledore's apparent weakness, she couldn't help but think of Hagrid's words to her last time she had visited his house.

"_Like I said, don' worry. 'S long as we've got Dumbledore yeh're safe."_

How much longer would they have Dumbledore? And therefore, for how much longer would she be safe? The outside world was creeping up on her and it was terrifying. It was for these reasons that she forced herself to focus on menial tasks rather than wallow in sadness, but her relentless labouring had an unfortunate side effect; by four o'clock, when the sky was dark and the snow thick on the grounds, everything was done. Hermione had no choice but to dismiss the prefects, and then she sat down at one of the chairs at a nearby table and stared into space, feeling lost and purposeless.

She didn't know when she'd started crying. She only became aware when she felt the wetness on her cheeks and as one single tear made its way down her nose and dripped onto the table in front of her.

The gnawing grief and sadness she had worked so hard to ignore for months now had wormed its way back into her emotions, and it was as if she had opened some kind of Pandora's Box in her own head. Everything she had tried so hard to contain came bubbling to the surface and so now all she felt was utterly broken.

Her anger at the Order; her worry for Harry and Ron; her sadness at the absence of her parents; her loneliness; her fear for what would happen as Voldemort grew more powerful; her rage at the whole world for making her position so _fucking_ difficult... everything hit her all at once and so she buried her head in her hands, leaned on the table and began sobbing- harsh, brutal, heartbreaking sobs that were partial muffled by her arms but spoke volumes more than her words ever could have.

"Granger?"

* * *

><p>When Draco had arrived, he'd thought the Hall was empty. He was cursing himself for being late, over four hours late, knowing that Granger would get angry at him for it. Yet what could he have told her?<p>

_"Sorry I'm late, Granger. I was having a nap because I've been staying awake every night because I don't want to have another dream about you."_

He'd laughed sarcastically in his own head.

So when he'd walked in - four and a half hours after he should have been there and out of breath from running from his room - he'd glanced around the dark hall, lit only by the faint glow of the moon on the ceiling, and seen the chairs and tables set up, the holly, the unlit candles floating everywhere, and he'd assumed the room was devoid of anyone.

And then as he'd been about to walk away he'd heard the muffled yet tortured cries and had stopped. Upon closer inspection, he'd noticed Granger, sat in the almost-darkness, at a table not too far from him. The broken noises were quite obviously coming from her and the thought made his heart begin to race.

"Granger?"

She sat up at the sound of her surname and he heard her sniffle and cough quietly.

"Are you alright?"

As though the sound of another human's voice had reminded her that she was not alone in the castle, she brought her hands to her face and wiped her eyes, regaining a little of her typical composure.

"Yes. Yes, I'm alright now."

He knew for a fact she was lying but he didn't know what to say. This was altogether too deep for him to handle.

"Sorry I was late. I fell asleep. By accident."

"It's fine. We finished early anyway."

"So I see."

He cautiously walked towards her table, but maintained some distance between them. Still suspecting that he may like her, and knowing what he needed to do to check, Draco had been struggling to find a moment in a week and a half where he could test his theory- and now seemed like a decent time.

"The room looks good," he said, simply to say something.

"Thank you. I think I might have gone overboard with the candles though. We'll see when they're all lit later, I suppose," she replied.

There was a silence and then Draco's words came bursting forth before he could stop them.

"Listen Granger... this might be a bad time, but I don't really see a better one on the horizon."

She immediately looked very wary, and Draco noticed how red and sore her eyes looked. How long had she been crying for before he'd arrived?

"A bad time for what?"

"I'm calling in that favour you owe me."

She was instantly on guard; she stood up quickly. "Oh, brilliant. I suppose you've been saving it for an occasion where you can humiliate me on as large a scale as possible? What do you want me to do? Turn up to the ball naked? Make an arse of myself in the middle of a dance?" she asked angrily.

"It's nothing that bad! Don't be so fucking melodramatic!" he snapped angrily.

"Then what _do_ you want?"

Draco took a deep breath. He'd been planning this for days now, imagining it, even reluctantly dreaming of it, and yet he could barely bring himself to say it.

"I want- no, I don't _want_ you to..."

_Just do it_, he thought. He exhaled slowly.

"Kiss me."

There was a stunned silence.

"No way," Granger managed to splutter. She shook her head so vigourously it looked almost like it was about to come off her shoulders.

"You don't get to pick and choose how you repay me, Granger! You owe me, and this is what I'm telling you to do," he spat, sounding and feeling more like himself -an arrogant prick- than he had done in days.

Yet again there was no sound and she started biting her lip.

"Why?" she asked bitterly. "So you can tell Theo and ruin things for us because you don't want us to associate? Or so you can boast to the whole school and make fun of me? Why are you asking me this?"

"None of those things!" he replied, strangely irritated by how little she thought of him. Then again, he had given her few reasons to trust him. "It doesn't matter why I want you to do it; just do it. If I give you my word I won't tell a soul, will you do it?"

He was asking her now, even though she owed him and he should have been telling her. He could see the struggle in her eyes. She knew that a Malfoy's word was his law, but she had whatever she had going on with Theo. She didn't want to be in his debt anymore, but this wasn't her ideal way to remedy that. Her eyes said it all. He didn't know what to do… he wished he could force the words back into his mouth. She wouldn't do it. Of course she wouldn't. What had he been thinking?

Finally, she spoke.

"Ok."

He was shocked because he'd expected her to protest more or to outright refuse again. Silently standing still for a couple of seconds, he looked at her unsure face. She was still nibbling at her bottom lip. Then he nodded a little hesitantly.

_It's just a test, _he reminded himself, _an experiment to check a hypothesis. _But that didn't stop his palms becoming clammy or his heart beating faster. What was wrong with him?

She moved a little closer to him and he stepped forwards too, but almost reflexively she shrank back so they were still about a meter apart. He tutted and moved so close that they were almost touching. The whole situation was incredibly awkward, and he looked up because he couldn't meet her eye and then noticed a plant with white berries dangling above their heads.

"Mistletoe," he mumbled. "That's a tad ironic," he smirked, trying to diffuse some of the tension, but Granger still couldn't look him in the eyes.

"How are we doing this then? Just a peck or something more-"

"For Merlin's sake, Granger, stop overanalysing things!" he snapped, and then before she could retort he'd leaned forwards and captured her lips with his own.

He felt sparks ignite all over his skin the second his lips brushed against hers and he could feel himself filling up with happiness and longing and a desperate desire to pull her closer and hold her tight and do so much more than kiss her- all the things he'd wanted not to feel.

He should have been revolted, disgusted, angry. But he wasn't. He felt only warmth and something close to happiness or contentment, but not quite that. Suddenly, he could feel rage building up inside of him at himself purely because he couldn't feel anything negative. And then she made a little sighing moan that seemed involuntary and he just forgot. He forgot it all.

For Hermione, it was much more confusing and awkward at first, but it had taken her by surprise so it wasn't as unpleasant as she'd expected. The sound had escaped her throat before she knew she'd made it, and a fraction of a second after she felt her lips part without her control. Her mind blanked as she felt a tentative hand on her waist and her own hands twitched, like she was about to wrap them around his neck. Not that Draco knew.

For five seconds, both of them forgot everything. For five glorious seconds they felt no conflicting emotions; they lost themselves, feeling nothing but the other's lips and surrounded by the other's scent - his lemony, citrusy and somehow aniseedy smell mingling with her sweet vanilla. For five wonderful seconds, time stopped, the world stood still, and everything but the two of them ceased to exist.

And it was then that they became simultaneously aware of what they were doing- who they were kissing. Draco opened his eyes and pulled away, breathing heavily. Granger looked dazed. There was just silence and stillness for a short while until he took a step back. And then another, and then before he knew it he'd backed completely away and was at the doors of the Great Hall. She still had not moved.

He looked back, feeling like it was necessary to say something but words were so hard to form. Oh Merlin, what had he done to himself now?

"You don't owe me anymore."

He heard the crack of longing and regret and need in his own voice but whether she did or not, he couldn't tell. She simply nodded anxiously and pressed her lips tightly together.

He couldn't think of anything more to say so he just left; left her standing there wondering what fresh mess she'd just gotten herself into.

As the aching want inside him dissipated, it was replaced by a frustration of a different sort. The kiss had blown his theory out of the water. Somehow, some-_fucking_-way, he had managed to develop an attachment to the one girl who was supposed to be off limits, and now he had done the one thing that made it impossible to ignore how he felt.

He actually wanted Hermione Granger.

* * *

><p>At six forty-five, Hermione reluctantly made her way down from her room to the Great Hall. She was wearing the green gown that Ginny had liked and had done her hair and make-up nicely purely as a distraction so she wouldn't think about what had happened with Malfoy. On the one hand, it had cleared her mind of all her other worries - though probably only temporarily - but unfortunately it had replaced them with looming concern as to how the kiss would factor into her relationship with Theo.<p>

There was a throng of students waiting outside the Hall doors when she arrived. Most were around third year and above as it seemed the majority of the younger students had chosen to go home when the task of finding a partner had proven too daunting. Hermione saw Ginny and Colin stood together about thirty meters away from her in the Entrance Hall, talking to Neville and Luna, who Hermione knew were going as friends. She would have waved to them but Ginny shot her a nasty glare as she clutched at Colin's arm so she just looked away.

Hermione wasn't used to seeing so much colour; usually the student body was a mass of black, but tonight the Entrance Hall was a rainbow of aqua blues, rose pinks, crimson and scarlet, greens and deep purples or even metallic gold and silver.

After looking through the mass of students for a while, she concluded that Theo wasn't there and it made her feel rather deflated and sad, but before she could dwell on it Professor McGonagall strode over and grabbed her arm. She steered Hermione to the outskirts of the group, and she noticed with a jolt that the professor's other hand had Malfoy's shoulder in a vice-like grip. She really did not want to speak to him or be near him at the moment.

He was wearing dress robes too and they looked ridiculously expensive; Hermione could tell just by looking at the stitching that it probably cost more than most of her clothes combined. They were green, which was unsurprising, but a deep bottle green that made his hair look whiter, his eyes more silver and his skin paler and softer than usual. If it hadn't been Malfoy she was looking at, she may have thought he looked good. Whipping his head to his left when they came to a stand-still, he saw her staring. She waited for some kind of sneer, but none came.

McGonagall assessed them over her spectacles and apparently they passed whatever test she was examining them for; she smiled thinly and nodded.

"First of all, well done. You've managed this task impeccably well, and you should be proud of yourselves."

Both of them could only nod. Hermione's throat was dry.

"Now, you two will be entering last, after everybody else, and it's just a simple dance- something akin to a waltz I believe, nothing too difficult-"

"What?" interrupted Malfoy. Hermione was equally confused.

"As you arranged the ball, you're opening it. With the first dance." She frowned at their blank faces. "Surely you were aware?"

"No," they said together, but the Professor waved away their looks of concern.

"Well, you know now. Hurry, get to the back. Go!" she snapped, shooing them away when they didn't move.

They walked hesitantly to the rear of the mass of giggling students in silence. Once there, Malfoy offered his arm to her but did not look at her. She stared at it as though it was dangerous and didn't touch him. After a small pause he tutted.

"Take it. If we're doing this, we may as well do it properly," he said in an oddly even tone that was devoid of any emotion.

Gently, she rested her hand on the proffered arm but glanced cautiously around as she did so; she still couldn't see Theo. She sighed.

His robes felt silky to the touch and reaffirmed that they were probably the most expensive things she'd ever seen in her life. Air became thinner around her, or it felt like it, and she fought hard to maintain her breathing. _It's just one dance with him,_ she told herself, _just the one. _Again, she stared at his arm like it was a bomb. Green and green. They were both wearing it. They matched without realising. How strange.

As they finally walked into the Hall, Hermione heard Malfoy breathe in sharply with his eyes on the room and she too looked around. Upon sight of it, now in full decoration, she was in spite of her uneasiness impressed with herself.

She hadn't overdone it with the candles; they looked magnificent now they were all ablaze, floating in clusters as golden orbs of light around the room. They gave the whole Hall a soft, flickering glow that made the place feel instantly more festive than normal. A huge circle in the centre of the room that seemed rather like an ice-skating rink at first glance was serving as the immense dancefloor; it looked just like a frozen over lake, but Hermione knew the surface not to be slippery at all and perfectly easy to dance on.

The mistletoe and holly strung around the room looked impressive, covering all the walls with greenery and dusted with magical snow, and the chairs and tables looked beautiful, intended to resemble frost and icicles and managing it perfectly with their crystalline look and softly shimmering glass-like surfaces. But it was the stage that took Hermione's breath away. It was made of magical unmelting ice, a huge, glistening platform that was filled with a mystical blue light that refracted and splintered off all over and pulsed softly, giving the illusion that it had a heartbeat. The band was stood on it, ready to play - the harpists, the cellists, the violinists- and they looked ethereal.

As she walked past the students, who had formed a sort of ring around the centre of the room, many either patted her on the back or congratulated her on the amazing decorations, and those that couldn't reach her chirped excitedly to their friends and gestured wildly around. But several other students eyed her hand on Malfoy's arm with wariness and disapproval and glared at her beadily as she walked out into the centre of the dancefloor with him. She knew what it looked like and resented it.

They stopped, stood still in the middle of the circle of students, and then everything dropped to hushed whispers and then finally silence. Dumbledore was saying something but Hermione's brain seemed to have stopped working and she could barely hear him. And then there was applause from around her, and Malfoy spun her to face him and positioned himself to dance with her.

For a few seconds she didn't move, confused as to what was happening, and then he looked at her as though to say _'What are you waiting for_?' and so she took his hand and allowed his other to rest on her waist.

Music started and they began stepping around, gliding elegantly across the floor, each knowing the steps to a waltz perfectly. Hermione had nowhere else to look but at him so she locked her eyes on his and pursed her lips, saying nothing.

The emptiness of the dancefloor around them was daunting but even so they did not step out of a very small space of about a meter around them. Hermione mentally begged someone else to join in so they wouldn't be stared at so much. But the blur of colour behind Malfoy's head stayed still and unmoving.

After what seemed to be like one hundred years of dancing alone on the floor, other couples began to join in, and their situation lost some of its intensity. But neither stopped dancing or released the other just yet.

Hermione noted with resentment that Malfoy was a very good dancer, something that she supposed stemmed from what she imagined to be quite a formal upbringing. He hadn't once stepped on her feet, and he moved gracefully and lightly. His hold on her was tight, however, so tight that she knew that unless he decided to release her she wouldn't be able to let go. They were still dancing now, twirling in the same intricate pattern over and over, and suddenly she could take the silence between them no longer.

"Why did you make me do it?" she blurted ambiguously, but knowing that he would be able to figure out what she meant.

"I didn't _make_ you do anything," he replied simply, infuriating her.

"Yes you did!" she snarled. "I owed you and you told me to do it, so I could hardly have refused. You gave me no choice."

"You always have a choice, Granger."

He was maddening, and as he stared stonily at her with slate grey eyes she felt guilt welling up inside of her like a toxin building up in her system. That would be how Theo would see it, as a choice she had consciously made, when in reality it had been anything but. She'd simply have to face up to the consequences of it, and just be honest with him and tell him-

"You can't tell Theo," Malfoy said, as though he was reading her mind.

"I have to," she said defiantly. "I'm not a liar."

A few more steps passed in silence. The harps and the violins were loud and so was the chatter around them.

"Look Mudblood," he spat finally, using the word he had not uttered to her in a few weeks, "you can't tell him."

He surprised her by swinging her outwards and twirling her deftly around his wrist before catching her hand and pulling her back towards him, closer now. She could feel his chest pressing against her.

"I really don't care what little thing you have going on with him. I just want to make this fair. If I can't tell anyone, you can't tell anyone. Simple."

Hermione glared at him tempestuously and didn't reply. Well then what was she supposed to do? If she told Theo, Malfoy would tell the whole school they'd kissed and she'd never ever be able to live it down. Ron and Harry would find out eventually, and what would they say?

Malfoy's face suddenly twitched into what was probably supposed to be a sly grin but didn't contain its usual malevolence. "Well if we're on the subject of questions: why did you let me kiss you?"

She hushed him, glancing at the pairs of students so close to her but who seemed unaware of their conversation, and then was left dumbstruck and almost tripped over her own feet. Malfoy held her steady and they resumed the steps.

"You might want to watch your feet, Granger," he muttered coolly and for a moment or two she was so irritated she couldn't speak.

"I had to. You said it, I owed you," she replied finally, answering his question at last.

"You could have objected more if you were really so opposed to it. I actually thought you would. Or that you'd at least require a little more convincing. If you didn't want to do it this badly then why didn't you protest?"

He'd checkmated her there. In all honesty, she didn't know why she hadn't disputed his request. If she'd been a little more self-indulging she might have suggested it was because she had a penchant for self-sabotage, but she didn't. Maybe it was because of how she had been feeling beforehand, lost and confused in her own emotions, and so she'd just agreed without really realising what the result of her decision might be. All she knew for sure was that she _had_ agreed, and now Malfoy had cornered her with reasoning.

Before she could respond caustically, she felt a light tap on her shoulder and turned around. There was Theo, stood in dress robes of black and silver with a smile on his face and a gleam of jealousy in his eyes. Hermione felt relief and guilt and happiness and irritation flood her all at once.

"May I?" he asked, holding out a hand, and Hermione couldn't help but smile at the cliché.

"Of course," she said.

Malfoy let go of her and took a step back. She took Theo's hand but then stopped and curtseyed sarcastically at Malfoy, who bowed stiffly.

Theo led her towards the edge of the dancefloor, far away from where she'd been with Malfoy, and then placed his hands on her waist as she put hers round his shoulders. Her steps with Theo were much less formal, being more of a sway than a real dance. His eyes had lost their spark of possessiveness and he gazed at her happily.

"Thanks for the rescue," she muttered.

"You're entirely welcome," said Theo.

"You made it," she smiled after a second, ignoring the feeling of sickness that was creeping up on her.

"I did. I told you I would," he replied. "My father doesn't know I'm here though, and he'll probably kill me when I get back if he notices I'm gone." He laughed. "He really doesn't like it when I lie to him. But it doesn't really matter."

"How did you even get here?" she asked curiously.

"I'd been trying to work out that myself all week, then about six o'clock I just got ready and Apparated into Hogsmeade. I walked up to school and then stood there like an idiot at the gates because I'd forgotten they'd be locked, so then I had to walk back into the village and ask around the houses for someone who had an owl that I could borrow. I finally found one and sent a message to Slughorn and he came down and got me."

At that moment, Professor Slughorn, dressed in luxurious green robes, tottered past them slightly unsteadily, rather red in the face.

"I think someone might have stopped by the Three Broomsticks before he came back," Theo chuckled. "He was a bit pissed off at me at first, but he has a soft spot for me so he'll let it slide, I'm sure."

"That's good. You went to a lot of effort just for me," Hermione smiled. Her stomach was still churning uneasily.

"It was definitely worth it. You look beautiful tonight," said Theo sincerely.

"Thank you. You look wonderful too." She took a deep breath. "I'm so glad you're here."

"So am I."

Hermione decided in the instant that Theo flashed his charming, pearly white smile that she wouldn't tell him about Malfoy. It had been one small kiss, she decided, to settle a silly little score and had meant nothing, and it was too early in their relationship for her to jeopardise it over something so miniscule. So she just grabbed him round the neck and kissed him.

When she broke apart from him, she was aware that a few students were staring at them; some were whispering, others pointing. She also spotted Ginny glaring murderously at them out of the corner of her eye. But she actually didn't care. She'd picked Theo, she liked Theo, and as far as she was concerned, everybody else would just have to deal with it.

* * *

><p>As the night wound on, the formality of the event began to slip. The string musicians had been clapped for and left the stage and were then succeeded by the Weird Sisters, booked by Dumbledore as a surprise after their success at the last ball, who came on to rapturous cheers, applause and a few screams. Waltzes and foxtrots gave way to bouncing and jumping and other informal kinds of dancing, and by the time everyone had eaten the party was in full swing.<p>

Draco had spent the entire evening after the first dance with his eyes firmly on Granger, who, after a very public display of affection for Theo, seemed to be enjoying herself immensely. She'd stayed with him all night, except for now; she was hugging Longbottom and that odd blonde girl he had come with.

He'd watched her as he ate on a small circular table with Crabbe and Goyle, whom he'd sat with to avoid the embarrassment of sitting alone. Neither of them had had any more luck finding dates to this ball than the last.

He'd watched her while he'd been captured by Professor Flitwick to listen to him squeak on and on about how much of a dance aficionado he'd been in his youth, and then he'd continued watching her when he'd obliged to a request from Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff to dance with her. He vaguely remembered having slept with her at some point, and the slight colour to her cheeks and the way she could hardly look at him as if she was embarrassed led him to believe she was hoping for a repeat. But he'd left her disappointed; once the song was over, he'd muttered something about needing a drink and had left her stood on her own.

Not feeling particularly in the party spirit, he was currently leaning against the wall by the drinks table, sipping some Butterbeer, alone. He would have left, but he'd decided that even staying at the ball and gazing moodily at Granger was preferable to the solitude of his bedroom. All of a sudden, he felt a presence to his left, where someone had just wandered over to lean on the wall beside him.

"Want some?"

It was Blaise, and he was holding out a silver hipflask. Draco took it greedily.

"Fuck yes."

He took several swigs of the liquid, which turned out to be Firewhiskey, grimaced, and then handed the flask back. This was the first time he'd spoken to Blaise since they'd had the argument over dinner the night Theo had punched him, and Draco noticed that his friend looked a little destitute but said nothing.

"Why are we being such little girls over all this?" Blaise asked after several moments of silence, looking at Draco in bemusement. "We haven't spoken since _November_. All because of some silly little spat. We need to man up." He took another swig.

"Yep."

Both of them stayed stood there as the music washed over them and their peers danced around them. Granger was dancing with Theo again, jumping around so that her hair flew loose of the braid she'd put it in, and she was beaming and laughing. She looked so happy. Draco sighed. How quickly had she managed to root herself in his head?

"I'm sorry for being a twat, I suppose," he said to his friend.

Blaise nodded. "You were a twat. But, I was a prick too. I shouldn't have brought up Theo like I did. Never mind anyway," he said, taking yet another drink and staring into the crowd in front of them, all of whom were now jumping to the beat of the song. "I guess Christmas is the time for forgiveness and all that shit."

"Apparently."

"So are we alright now?"

"Yeah," Draco smiled. It was good to have at least one friend back.

Blaise was still staring despondently off into space. Draco followed his eyes and saw that he was staring at Daphne, who was dressed up in pink, dancing with Tracey Davies and Pansy. Relatively nearby were Dean and Seamus, and Dean was staring at Daphne so intensely that Draco was surprised her dress hadn't caught fire from his burning gaze. Draco had given her until Christmas and it was so close that he decided her time was up. She was a bitch and he was a dick for not telling Blaise in the first place. He licked his lips.

"She's cheating on you, you know."

He looked at his long-time friend, who had confessed to him not so long ago how deep his feelings ran for Daphne, and noticed that his face had barely changed and his gaze had not shifted.

"Oh," he replied, raising the flask once more to his lips.

Draco stared at him. "Is that all you're going to say? '_Oh_'? Blaise... she's fucking someone else." He hadn't meant to put it so bluntly but it didn't seem like Blaise was comprehending what he was saying.

He sighed then looked at Draco. "I already know, mate."

He swallowed grimly though there was nothing in his mouth and Draco was almost relieved.

"I'm sorry. When did she tell you?"

"She didn't."

Draco did a double take and Blaise looked at him with a sad smile.

"Come on. This is me we're talking about. Mr Perceptive. You think I wouldn't notice that she kept disappearing off at all hours? And she's spending less and less time with me. She isn't exactly what you'd call subtle."

"How long have you known?" asked Draco.

"A while," said Blaise with another morose smirk. "Since a little while after we fell out."

"And you haven't dumped her?" Draco was incredulous. "Blaise, she isn't worth your time."

"But I love her," he replied simply.

"You can't love her," retorted Draco cynically. "You're too young."

"You're never too young to love someone."

Draco tried to respond to him with a frown but Blaise held up a hand to stop him.

"Don't bother. Don't even start to judge me. It's my life; stay out of it."

For once, Draco complied. It seemed he was finally beginning to learn when to keep his nose out of other people's business, although not soon enough, he thought irritably. But he didn't like this Blaise- this sad, empty, weak Blaise who was letting his girlfriend get away with such horrible things. He missed how his friend had been a little while ago: all insults and jokes and laughing.

"How did you know anyway?" Blaise asked.

"I sort of... found out by accident," Draco said carefully.

"When?"

"A few months ago," he confessed, waiting for an explosion of curses from Blaise that didn't come.

"You're a dick," he laughed emptily, tipping up the flask and draining the last of its contents. "You knew when you told me I should dump her didn't you?"

Draco's silence was all the conformation Blaise needed.

"Fucking hell," he said, shaking his head disbelievingly, still sadly smiling. "But I'd probably have done the same thing if I were you. We're too alike. I'm a bit of a coward as well. Too much of a coward to get rid of her."

"I didn't think it was my place to tell you. I wanted to give her a chance to-"

"That's bollocks and you know it. You were just too scared of my reaction to tell me."

Draco hung his head because he knew it was true.

"Shit. It seems like all I keep doing tonight is apologising. I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't worry about it. There's no damage done. Not really."

Draco begged to differ. He could hear the hurt in Blaise's voice and see the sadness in his eyes and in his slumped posture but didn't want to mention it. He looked away from his friend, his eyes flicking involuntarily and automatically to Granger and Theo, who were now slow dancing. She had her head on his shoulder and her eyes closed while his hands were on her waist as they swayed gently. Just the sight of it made him feel like shit.

Damn him for opening some stupid door in his head to these feelings. He didn't know how Blaise could cope with the thought of the girl he apparently loved having sex with someone else when just seeing the girl that he liked _touching_ someone else made him feel this jealous and annoyed. Why had he ever wanted something more emotional? He didn't know what to think. Was he supposed to feel _this _covetous?

He reached out and patted Blaise's shoulder in what he hoped was a sympathetic way when he saw out of the corner of his eye that Daphne was making her way over.

"Well, I am going to go dance with my girlfriend," Blaise said sadly, putting away his empty flask in his jacket pocket and plastering on a smile. "She doesn't know I know, so don't tell her, alright? I'm doing this my way."

Draco nodded and then Daphne came over, took his hand and led him away. Over her shoulder, Daphne mouthed to him what he thought may have been a request for more time to tell Blaise and he just shrugged. He'd leave her and Blaise to work that mess out on their own.

He continued to stand on the side-lines for a long time, and watched his fellow students have what was probably the time of their lives. The whole thing seemed ridiculously pointless to him. The ball would perhaps provide some brief respite from the toll of the war outside, this much was true, but give it two days and then everyone would return to being terrified of their own shadows, anxiously anticipating the day they found out they had lost someone they loved. Draco was glad that he had no-one he loved, except maybe his mother, who was safe. He couldn't get hurt that way.

How long the dancing went on for Draco didn't know. All he did was stand against the wall as his eyes followed Granger in that beautiful dress that made her curves beg to be touched and her skin positively glow. At some point she stopped dancing and Longbottom came over to near where Draco was standing to get them all some drinks. He eyed Draco with wariness.

"What are you looking at?" Draco snapped at him.

"Nothing worth my time, Malfoy," Longbottom replied quickly, then walked away with the drinks.

Draco was taken aback. Even Longbottom was growing a backbone in the face of the war. That was a shocker. But at least it wasn't just him who was changing.

He stayed where he was for almost the rest of the evening, watching Granger or watching Blaise who seemed to have been putting on a brave face, until Pansy came over to him. Immediately he flinched and tried to walk away. She smiled.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to go crazy," she said calmly. "I just wanted to ask for a dance."

It was a slow song and Draco was wary of his ex's motives.

"Honestly, I only want the dance. I think you owe me one after everything, don't you?"

He obliged, taking her hand and leading her to the dancefloor where they danced on the spot for a bit with their arms around each other. As they moved, he couldn't help but watch Granger once more, and at one point she seemed aware of his gaze because she opened her eyes and looked directly at him with a slight frown. He felt like he wanted to speak to her but he didn't know what to say so he looked at Pansy instead. She was already looking at him.

"I miss you, Draco," she said sadly after about thirty seconds of silence. "I was thinking maybe that-"

"Pansy, don't."

She looked down at the floor and he lifted her arms off him and stepped away.

"I'm not worth it."

He looked at Granger, eyes closed and smiling, still swaying with Theo, and for the first time he actually became aware of his own worth and what an awful person he really was. He'd told Granger to kiss him to get himself out of some stupid little problem in his own head when he knew she was in some kind of relationship with Theo, and for what? So he could prove he didn't fancy a Mudblood, and that certainly hadn't turned out the way he wanted it to. He'd never really had any sort of inflated idea that he was a perfect person but he'd never thought he was inherently bad.

He stared around at the happy couples still holding each other even as the song ended and then he looked at Pansy who was staring at him desperately, and before he left all he could think of to say was: "Merry Christmas."

* * *

><p><strong>Thus ends the longest chapter so far - don't say we dont make these waits worth it :)<strong>

**Yay, Blaise is back, though I'm sad that he's sad. Me and Nicole love him... And say what you want about his reaction, but we think that's just how he'd have reacted. We're glad he finally knows... what about you? **

**So, what do you think about their first kiss? Reviews are appreciated much more than you know. Love you all lots, we'll see you in two weeks :)**


	20. Fireworks

**Aloha! Not much to say this week, what with my personal life rendering me in a constant state of mind-fuck...**

**Thank you so much for the positive feedback on the last chapter; I'm glad you liked their first kiss :) and also, many people have been adding us to their Story Alerts/Favourite Author/Favourite Story things and that hasn't gone unnoticed. We really appreciate you taking the time to do stuff like that. **

**Finally, last week marked the end of mine and Nicole's compulsory high school career :( I cried a lot and it was very sad, but on the bright side only eight exams to go and then it's back to weekly updates. Huzzah! **

**Anyway, enough of me. If you could take the time to review, it would be much appreciated, especially since I am as unsure as ever about this chapter... I don't want anybody to think we rushed into this next part.**

* * *

><p>Hermione awoke with a start the next morning, the events of yesterday flooding back to her along with her consciousness.<p>

After the horrific disaster that was the afternoon and the catastrophe that had been the opening dance, the rest of the evening at the ball had been entirely pleasant. Theo had been wonderful company. He had ignored stares of disapproval from people in his house and had fended off the few insults that had been spat at him admirably, and he was fun to spend time with. They'd spent the whole night dancing and laughing until midnight when he had left, promising to see her soon and leaving her feeling sad and already anticipating his arrival back when term started.

It being Christmas morning there was, as usual, a pile of gifts at the foot of Hermione's bed, though it was noticeably smaller than usual with no presents from Harry and Ron or her parents. Reaching for the smallest parcel, she tore off the paper to unveil a green velvet box, inside of which, nestled in the cream silk interior, was a silver bangle in the shape of a snake with a glistening emerald for an eye. Her breath caught in her throat at the beauty of it and she searched for the card that had come with it.

_To my Hermione,_

_For you, so you'll always have a bit of me. _

_Theo. _

She slipped the bangle over her wrist immediately and smiled to herself happily, yet felt slightly worried. The bracelet looked expensive and all she had gotten Theo was a Hufflepuff scarf – a joke and an allusion to the fact that he had told her he was almost made a Hufflepuff. Would he think her cheap? She dismissed the thought instantly; Theo would like the gift and wouldn't care too much about its material value. She supressed guilt about her kiss with Malfoy and tried to remain happy.

The next parcel was rather more of a surprise. It wasn't that the gift itself was a real shock – it was from Mrs Weasley and contained a box of homemade fudge and a Weasley jumper which she could add to the large collection of the others that she never wore – but it came with an addition she had not expected. It was a Christmas card, and she thought nothing of it until she read the little note attached to it.

_They said to give you this at Christmas. _

_Molly. _

The she opened the card itself and by the time she'd finished reading it her eyes were damp.

_Hermione,_

_We're writing this the day after McGonagall came. You have no idea how hard it was to find a Christmas card in summer. We hope you're alright. Actually, we hope we're alright because without you we'll be a bit lost. _

_We didn't really know what to do with ourselves when we found out you weren't coming with us. We know we won't be able to write to you and just the thought of that is mental, but we wanted to make sure you got something from us for Christmas, even if it was just this card. _

_Merry Christmas, Hermione. We'll see you soon._

_Harry and Ron. _

And then under that, in his usual scruffy handwriting, Ron had scribbled a small addition.

_I'll really miss you. _

Trying to squash the guilt and sadness that was threatening to explode inside of her, she wiped few stray tears from her cheeks and put the card into the drawer where she kept her precious items: a ring belonging to her grandmother, a few mementos from her home, a picture of her parents, and now the card.

The penultimate present was from Hagrid, a batch of rock cakes that were hastily pushed to one side, which left her with one parcel left. It was large, wrapped in brown paper and looked suspiciously familiar. As she ripped it open she saw it was the Broomstick Servicing Kit she had sent Fred, unopened and returned, with the card she had written him still tucked inside, and it left her feeling sullen and rejected. She noticed that there was a small note attached to the paper she had torn off and she hesitantly picked it up.

_Hermione, I know you meant well with the gift, but Fred said he didn't want it. I don't know what happened on Hallowe'en, but he hasn't been the same since. Maybe give him some space, ok? _

_Merry Christmas._

_George. _

Her gifts had certainly put a dampener on Christmas, she thought, as she gazed sadly at the returned present.

Hermione spent most of the day in her room, leaving once at lunchtime for Christmas dinner and sitting next to Neville and ignoring Ginny the whole time. That afternoon as she headed into the common room to go down to the Great Hall for Christmas tea, she saw Malfoy sat quietly in the armchair he usually occupied. He had procured a toasting fork from somewhere and he was toasting some bread over the common room fire. Hermione hadn't seen him since the moment she'd caught his eye when she was dancing with Theo last night, and wasn't sure how they were to interact with each other after the awkwardness caused by their kiss. Things had been going well; they had established somewhat of a symbiotic relationship. But now it was tense again, just like at the start of the year except with a fraction less hostility.

"Hi," she said hesitantly.

Malfoy looked up at her blankly.

"Afternoon. Oh, Merry Christmas I suppose."

"Yeah, Merry Christmas."

Malfoy certainly did not look merry. She almost pitied him; like her, he would be spending Christmas this year without his parents, and she knew that it was difficult.

At this thought, she remembered something she had done on the Hogsmeade trip just over a week before, and so she retreated into her room and returned a second later with something in her hands. Malfoy had gone back to toasting and didn't look at her.

"I got you something," she said, and once more he looked up quizzically at the sound of her voice. His brow furrowed.

"What?" he said, like he wasn't sure what he'd just heard.

"It's nothing much. I got it when we were in Hogsmeade," she said tentatively. "I just thought that since your parents are-" She stopped at the look on his face. "Well, I just thought you might not get many presents this year. And everyone should get something at Christmas."

She held out a rather worn and unwrapped copy of _Hogwarts, A History _to him but he didn't take it. He wasn't looking at her, almost as though he couldn't, so she walked over to him and placed the book on the side-table next to him.

"It's a first edition. I thought you might like it."

It was true. She had picked it up from the bookstore when she'd called in after her disastrous dress shopping with Ginny, hoping to purchase herself a book as a distraction. Instead the second she had seen the worn leather cover of the tome next to the chair in which she had seen Malfoy on her last visit to the shop, she'd thought of him and his potential plight and had bought it without any hesitation. In her mind, everyone should read the book and so it was a natural assumption she had that Malfoy would enjoy it.

Still, he said nothing to her. What had she expected? Thanks? Not likely. Perhaps she had overstepped the mark after what had happened with them. But then he nodded at the fire as he still wasn't looking at her and accepting it as a sign of dismissal, she left.

She had planned to give him the book for over a week, and yet in retrospect, now that she had she almost wished that she hadn't. The atmosphere had been too awkward and tense by far for it to be acceptable had they been_ friends_, and they were anything but. To spring an unexpected gift on him like that, probably to him seeming like some kind of way to make him indebted to her… what had she been thinking? She was surprised he hadn't rejected it immediately.

This tension did not improve over the next few days. They ran into each other on the way to the bathroom, in the common room, going to meals, in the library, but each time no words were uttered, no eye contact was made, and Hermione was left barely able to breathe from the weight of the unease. And as this feeling increased, so did her feeling of loneliness and starvation of human contact.

Had Theo been around, perhaps she would have felt slightly better, but he wasn't, and so Hermione was almost desperate for some kind of connection with another person by New Year's Eve. She missed conversation, idle chit-chat that meant nothing, and more so, she missed contact: the feeling of someone's arms around her; the sensation of lips pressed against flesh; the feeling of being held.

That evening, Hermione didn't know what to do with herself. As it was New Year's, each house had some form of event in their common rooms; they were unofficial affairs that went on way past lights out and broke or bent several rules, but events that teachers turned a blind eye to as long as they did not get too rowdy. She had planned to see in the New Year at the party over in Gryffindor tower with her friends, but her current relationship with Ginny put her off the idea.

She decided to stay in and read a book, to take some time to herself for once, and so she had settled herself in front of the fire in the warm common room. That was how Malfoy found her, stretched out on the sofa with her brow wrinkled in slight concentration as her eyes skimmed over the words, when he came out of his room. Not even noticing his quiet entrance, she didn't look up and kept her eyes on the pages.

"Thank you," he said, not bothering with any kind of greeting.

She glanced upwards, pausing for a second as his words sank in. Words that were his first to her since Christmas Day. He was stood by the portrait hole, staring at her with those piercing grey eyes of his, dressed in all black. She looked at him, puzzled.

"For what?"

"For the book. It was nice of you."

Malfoy looked as though he could barely manage to get the words out of his mouth, but yet his eyes suggested some kind of gratefulness.

"You're welcome. It was just a book though, it wasn't any great bother."

"Still. It was the only present I got this year."

Hermione let the sadness of his words sink in. It wasn't the absence of the material objects that made her feel so sympathetic, but the way it implied that he had no-one who cared enough about him to give him something, even something small, and that he was as lost as she. Probably more so. One of his parents had abandoned him by choice, not unknowingly as her parents had. It was nearly heartbreaking. Nearly. She still couldn't forget that he had manipulated her only days before. He was still Malfoy, even if he was a slightly less privileged Malfoy than in the past.

"Like I said, you're welcome."

She offered him a token half smile to show that she meant it and then returned to her book, assuming their conversation to be over.

"I'm going out tonight."

Once more she stared at him in confusion, wondering why he was bothering to tell her.

"Alright. Where?"

"Slytherin common room. New Year's party, you know."

"Oh. Well, have a nice time then," she said vaguely.

How was she supposed to respond when she didn't even know why he was making the effort to keep her informed on his movements? But still, this was the most conversation she'd had with anyone in days and she tried not to enjoy it as much as she was doing.

"I will," he said grimly, as though having a nice time would be something he would have to force.

And then he walked out of the portrait and Hermione went back to her book, feeling the creeping hand of her desire for company looming over her again as she heard it click shut.

* * *

><p>Writhing bodies, packed almost to the walls of the place with barely any room to move yet somehow room to gyrate and dance; the stench of alcohol and the subtle undertone of sweat and the many mixed scents of various perfumes; a constant thumping of music coming from some indistinct source; and an intense heat burning through the place like a forest fire. This was the state of the Slytherin common room by eleven o'clock.<p>

Between the volume of the music and the loud waves of talk and yelling from various corners, it was a good job that some of the wiser students had had the foresight to put Silencing Charms on all the walls. Younger pupils had been bullied by the older ones into either staying in their dorms or acting as honorary waiters, so the main body of the party was those in fourth year and above.

As with any good Slytherin party, there was a game of spin-the-bottle going on just in front of the fire. Draco watched with a fixed, blank gaze as the bottle revolved around and around on the stone floor at the hands of a girl he did not know; the neck of it landed pointing at a tall handsome boy sat opposite her, and they eagerly crawled across the circle to hoots and cheers before kissing.

Around the room on armchairs, table tops, sections of the floor, more couples were kissing or doing other unsavoury things. The drink obtained by some seventh years was flowing freely and things were getting wilder by the second, and there in the middle of it all was Draco, stood alone by the wall and staring into space.

He had a bottle of some kind of mead in one hand– it was not his drink of choice, but he didn't feel like getting steaming drunk off Firewhiskey – but drinking and gazing numbly around him were the only things he was doing. He didn't want to dance or talk or kiss anybody… _or at least anybody in the room_, he thought bad-temperedly to himself. Draco just wasn't in the mood for a party, not like he usually was.

Since that bloody ball he'd not been able to get Granger out of his mind. It had been somewhat of a turning point for him; he knew he must like her, but he was having a hard time accepting it. It was made worse by how quickly his feelings had crept up on him and how much they had blossomed in such a short space of time. Granger was just always on his mind. In less than a week his dreams had gotten more intense and more frequent, and far too many times he had woken up with damp sheets; consequently his mood had gone downhill.

Now he was waging some kind of internal battle over whether or not he would be happy if something else were to happen with her. It had started on Christmas Day, when she'd given him that present. His only present. He couldn't decide whether she had done it because she had pitied him or because on some subconscious level she actual cared about him enough to make sure his Christmas wasn't totally shit… and then he couldn't decide which of these he'd rather it turned out to be.

What had she been thinking? Why even bother to consider him at all? It was probably her Gryffindor good nature. Damn her. She too often left him confused.

Could he have gotten any more pathetic though? Seeming like some kind of presentless orphan child who was given a bit of hope by a kind fellow human… It was ridiculous. Like something out of a terrible story book. He had thanked her though eventually, probably because there was a part of him that couldn't help but be happy that she seemed to care enough about him in order _to_ pity him. Things had been so strained between them lately, ruining everything just as they had settled into some kind of working routine, which he supposed was his fault for his kiss proposal.

Draco looked up when he heard a roar of his name, snapped out of his thoughts to see Blaise striding towards him carrying a half empty bottle of Firewhiskey. He didn't have to be a genius to work out where the missing drink had gone.

"Drinkies, ferret!" he called, then before Draco could say anything Blaise had picked him up and hoisted him over his shoulder, carving out a path through the throngs of dancing people to a long sideboard at the back of the room that seemed to be serving as a makeshift bar.

As he was planted rather roughly back on the floor and Blaise picked up two shot glasses, Draco noticed that Blaise seemed happier than he had been for the past few days, something which Draco attributed to the alcohol he had no doubt been consuming liberally.

Now with their friendship back on track, Draco had noticed over mealtimes that Blaise tended to either seem withdrawn and miserable or overly happy, probably as he tried to mask how he actually felt. The grin plastered on his face now seemed more natural than his recent faked ones but it was definitely drink-induced. He was dancing as he unscrewed the cap on his bottle and poured it out into the shot glasses, and Draco noticed how much of it glugged out of the bottle and onto the mahogany of the side board. How much had Blaise been drinking?

He swigged a large mouthful before he put the top back on, and then pushed one of the glasses towards Draco, who was standing still as others mingled around him. He didn't want to dance like them, and he didn't want to drink with Blaise. Actually, he wanted to go back to his room, and maybe read _Hogwarts, A History, _which was proving to be quite an interesting read.

"Come on, down the hatch!" hollered Blaise over the din, his speech a little slurred.

"I don't really feel like it," Draco replied honestly, eyeing the golden liquid in front of him with distaste. He could feel a slight throbbing of dull pain behind one eye, pounding in time to the loud music.

"Fuck off, just drink it! What's wrong with you? Loosen up a bit! It's New Year after all!" Blaise countered, in his typical brash style.

To pacify him, Draco downed the whiskey; its burn was not comforting as it usually was, but unpleasant and prickly in his oesophagus.

"Atta boy!" cried Blaise, patting him hard on the back, so hard that he almost coughed up what he had just drunk. "You should go find someone to dance with, Draco. A playmate, or something." He winked stupidly. "Or are you still caught up in that lovey-dovey shit you told me about ages ago?"

Draco just stared at him coldly. There she was again. Granger popped up in his head in response to Blaise's words, not heightening his already dwindling party spirit. He fought back the desire to tell Blaise to piss off, knowing that he was having a hard time of his own.

"Something like that."

"Don't get mixed up in it, mate. It's fucked up. I promise, you aren't missing out on anything," Blaise replied and then he staggered off into the mass of moving bodies around them.

Draco didn't move for a while and stayed leant against the sideboard. Other people continued to mill around him and he watched them with unease. He'd never been to one of these kinds of parties without being drunk himself, and staring at this little world with sober eyes was enlightening. He flinched as he saw Tracey Davies rush past him and then vomit into a large green vase. What was the appeal of it really?

He gazed at the chaos around him, barely taking in the sight of a drunken Blaise trying to kiss Daphne as she attempted to squirm out of his reach. However, he did notice Pansy sat alone on top of a desk, drinking desolately and looking glumly around her, and he felt a pang of guilt. After all this time, she was still really upset over him. Had he caused her so much pain? Were the effects of heartbreak so long-lasting? He wouldn't know himself.

He realised at the sight of his drunken peers that he didn't want to be here. He really _did not _want to be there, and would rather be anywhere else, so he skirted his way through the tightly packed crowd of dancing students and disappeared out into the night.

Slowly, he walked back to the fourth floor, knowing it was after hours and he'd get in trouble if he got caught, but knowing he had no great rush to be anywhere. The silent, deserted corridors helped to ease the beginnings of a headache he'd felt coming on earlier. As he reached the portrait he murmured the password and the lion in the frame let out a very catlike growl of acceptance.

He stepped inside to see Granger, sat on the couch and still in much the same position as when he'd left. Her presence had an oddly calming effect on him, and she looked up at him and almost smiled. She seemed to glow sometimes, like now; her body seemed to leak out a shimmering white light that engulfed him and soothed him.

"I thought you were at a party?" she mused, looking at him questioningly.

"I was but… I just realised that it wasn't worth my time. It wasn't a good party," he replied.

Granger nodded and closed her book, standing up as she did so.

"I thought you'd at least stay until midnight. Isn't that the point of a New Year's party? To count down until the New Year?" she asked. "It seems a little pointless to leave with three minutes to go."

Draco looked at the clock on the mantelpiece, and sure enough she was right. There were three minutes left of the year, and he was spending them talking to Granger. He walked over to lean on the marble frame of the fireplace.

"Yeah, well, New Year is overrated anyway. Everyone sets it up to be a big occasion and it's not. So we passed one more time around the sun. Big deal. I don't get why people decide that they're going to have a new start because it's a new year, either. Why suddenly decide to change when the year starts? If you want to change, you should just change. It just means that when you inevitably fail, you think 'I'll try again next year.' But it never stops. Every year is a let-down," Draco finished pessimistically.

Like happened so frequently when he was around Granger, he wondered where his words had come from. She seemed to draw some kind of pure honesty out of him whenever he was near her. She was like a strange, human magnet for goodness.

Granger nodded in what seemed to be agreement and wandered over to the window. She looked out and flashes of light illuminated her face, throwing different parts of her clear skin into luminance with every new explosion, and Draco could hear the echoing bangs of the premature fireworks the villagers of Hogsmeade were setting off. He couldn't help but watch her, watch as her coffee coloured eyes followed the sparks outside and were peppered with reflections of the rainbow bursts.

"Muggles have them too you know," she said suddenly, still gazing out of the window. "Fireworks, I mean. They aren't as spectacular as wizard ones, but they're still quite nice. I've always liked them."

Draco nodded, not knowing how to reply. Conversation, like it had been since the kiss, was still difficult for him. Granger turned to him when he stayed silent, looking at him with an odd gleam in her eye, almost like a hunger.

"Muggles do lots of silly things at New Year, fireworks being one. Then there are resolutions, but you seem to know about them. Another thing they do is kiss someone at midnight. Do wizards do that?" she asked innocently. Too innocently, like she knew the answer.

Trying to swallow because his mouth had suddenly gone dry, Draco nodded.

"Yes. Yes they do. I've never done it though," he added as an afterthought.

"How come?"

He tried to find an answer.

"I've never… I've never really found anyone I thought was… special enough… to give my first kiss of the year to," he said softly, unsure, as always, as to why he'd just told her.

Granger began to cross the room a little hesitantly. There was less than a minute to go.

"That seems like a very odd reason for someone who apparently cares so little for the sentiments of New Year," she responded deviously.

He was taken aback. Sometimes she did this - said something he never would have expected, something teasing, or something wicked or snide- and it would catch him off guard. He saw a light smile playing around the corners of her lips.

"Well then maybe I'm a bit of a hypocrite," he replied carefully.

"Maybe," she smirked. "Maybe I am too."

He narrowed his eyes in confusion, but said nothing.

"I've never had a midnight kiss either."

She was stood on the other side of the fireplace now, the only things in between her and Draco being the fire crackling between their feet, the air in the small gap between them and the clock on the centre of the mantelpiece. In the silence, he could hear it ticking, gradually ticking away the seconds of the year as he stared at Granger all lit up in the dancing light of the fire and the few candles around the room that had remained ablaze.

From this close, Draco could see more clearly that odd glint in her eye that hinted at some kind of desperation or need, but need for what he didn't know. He didn't know what was happening at all.

Then the clock chimed, delicately ringing out the midnight hour, and Granger stepped forward, closing the gap between them. He could see every individual freckle on her nose, every crease on her soft pink lips, and every single dark eyelash. She looked up at him.

"Happy New Year, Draco."

And then she was leaning towards him, so slowly that she was barely even moving, and he leant down to meet her, wondering why she was initiating it but yet not really caring… their lips were almost touching… he could feel her sweet breath on his face…

"Draco!"

At the sound of the shout and the banging that accompanied it, they sprang apart. Then there was more thumping, like someone was pounding on the wall next to the portrait.

"Fucking hell ferret, let me in!"

It was Blaise. Draco watched as Granger's face clouded with horror, and she ran across to the window, picked up her book from the windowsill where she had left it and hurried into her room, clicking the door shut and causing the desire and longing in him to go unchecked. He groaned and walked to the portrait, opening it and ready to bellow at Blaise for interrupting and then jumping back in silence when Blaise fell inside and collapsed in a heap in front of him. He was far too drunk, Draco could tell – he could practically see the fumes radiating off him. In fact, he was drunker than Draco had ever seen him.

Heaving his friend up off the floor, he dragged him over to the couch and dumped him rather unceremoniously down. Draco was infuriated with Blaise for ruining what could have been a brilliant start to the year for him and was about to tell him so, when he noticed Blaise seemed to be in distress. When he sat up, his dark skin looked wet, like he'd been crying.

"What's wrong?" he asked in concern, his anger vanishing.

Blaise looked at him sadly. "Daphne dumped me. In front of the whole _fucking _common room," he slurred. "And she did it five minutes before midnight. It was cruel."

Draco didn't know what to say. He wouldn't have felt sorry that it had happened at all if his friend hadn't looked so depressed.

"She said that it was a new year and she needed a new start without any lies," Blaise added, putting his head into his hands.

Draco shook his head at Daphne for doing the very thing he so despised about New Year- she'd turned it into some kind of milestone for becoming a better person when she'd lied to him for months. At least he knew he was a bad person - he'd had that realisation not so long ago - but Daphne remained in denial.

Draco patted Blaise's shoulder a bit awkwardly. He was still lost for words. In the silence he could hear the echoing bangs of the fireworks still going off in the village. Blaise suddenly sat up and began laughing hollowly.

"You know, I was so desperate to keep her that I even told her I'd turn a blind eye to her little boyfriend and pretend like I didn't know. That shut her up because she didn't know I knew she was cheating… she'd just said she didn't want me anymore. Did you know who it was by the way? Dean fucking Thomas. That twat from Gryffindor. She dumped me for _him?_"

"Blaise, I know you don't want to hear this right now, but in the long run it's for the best-"

"Fuck 'for the best'!" Blaise yelled. "I just want her, even if she is a liar and a cheat."

To Draco's great horror, a tear oozed out of Blaise's eye and trailed down his cheek. He'd never once seen any of his friends cry, and it was absolutely terrifying.

"Alright, listen to me," Draco said firmly. "You're really drunk right now. You can sleep on the couch in here tonight and we'll talk properly in the morning. When you're sober everything won't seem so bad."

He knew it was a lie, and that the morning and sobriety would only bring Blaise a painful hangover and probably a crippling, post-break-up depression, but he wanted to go to bed. The night had been full of disappointments, just like every New Year's Eve he'd ever experienced.

"Ok. Cheers Draco."

"Don't worry about it. Just try and get some sleep," he replied, extinguishing the last of the candles and submerging the room into semi-darkness, with the still burning embers of the fire as the only source of light.

He left his friend and crawled fully-clothed into his bed. Sleep did not come easily, though it found him in the early hours of the morning. For the first time in a few nights, he didn't dream.

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><p><strong>Can you tell how much I love fire? It's possibly my favourite thing in the world. It's just so hypnotizing. This must be like the millionth time I've mentioned it in a chapter... anyway, sad Blaise is sad, though it was about time he got rid of the deadweight that is Daphne... even if he won't be very happy about it. <strong>

**And poor Draco and Hermione! She really is a silly girl, and Draco is very much infatuated. Whatever will they do? :D Oh, and just to let you know- Nicole and I have grown to utterly despise Theo. It's almost amusing. Nicole was disgusted when I first suggested what should be written on Theo's note. Bless her. **

**Please review and tell us what you thought! See you in a fortnight! **

**xo**


	21. Amortentia

**A/N - Once more, an upload for thee, my darlings. Only four exams left, and that means... *cue drum roll*... ****_Only one more fortnight wait until we're back to weekly uploads!_**

**Yes, my loves, this marks the beginning of the end of my exam season. So, you have this upload, then one on the 29th (the day after my prom, ahhhhh! Excited!) and then we're back to one every Friday :) I'm so glad. **

**In other news, I wrote a little Dramione one-shot for a challenge in the HPFC forum, check that out if you like, and also review it if you do read it. It's called 'Clair de Lune.' It's a bit tragic though... I love the tragedy! ;)**

**Finally, a little question: do my A/N's annoy you? I realise sometimes they're long and babbly... It was just something I wondered after last chapter. Anyway, as always thanks for the reviews and nice comments****.**

* * *

><p>When classes began again after New Year, Hermione couldn't have been happier. She had left behind a year of disaster after disaster, but had nearly entered it the same way, so lessons were a welcome distraction.<p>

So too had Theo's return been. She had forgotten guilt for a day or two while she spent some time welcoming him back with much affection and smiling in all their free time - which, with their relationship now in the open, was much easier because they could spend more time together. But then, after her initial happiness had masked her guilt, it had worn off and she'd been forced to face the thing that she'd been ignoring since New Year's Day.

She remembered how horrible the first morning of the year had been. She'd walked out of her common room to see Blaise Zabini asleep on their couch, snoring loudly. Having no idea why he was there but assuming it had been he who had been pounding on the portrait so loudly the night before, she had just decided to ignore him. She'd been tired, dazed because she'd gotten next to no sleep, and after she came back from breakfast Blaise was still slumbering but Malfoy had been sat on a chair nearby him with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands to his temples.

Attempting to hide, she'd closed the portrait quickly and scurried across the room, but he'd gotten up hastily and grabbed her elbow.

In panic she'd spun around and jumped back from him, afraid to trust herself with being so close to him because of the night before.

"Should we talk about it, Granger?" he'd asked simply.

There had been no hint of a smirk, no smugness, no arrogance. Just what seemed like genuine wonder and confusion in the depths of those slate grey eyes of his.

"There's nothing to talk about," she'd muttered, barely audible over Zabini's snores.

He'd tilted his head to the side then. "There might have been. If he hadn't come," Malfoy had replied, gesturing to the sleeping figure.

Hermione shook her head because she hadn't wanted to consider it.

"But he did."

Silence except for the grunts. They just looked at each other uneasily, unsure of what to do. In those few seconds, Hermione had become acutely aware that she was changing, possibly beyond recognition. She didn't do this; she didn't lie or pretend or deny what may have happened. She was logical, and logic dictated that without Zabini's interruption she'd have done something unforgivable to Theo.

Was it the pressure of the war? The newness and unfamiliar territory of a relationship? Were her feelings overruling her normal personality? She didn't know. What she did know was that she was becoming selfish. Self-preservation rather than doing what was right was becoming her new protocol and she didn't like it. She knew then that she was losing herself and she was losing the careful control over her actions she had always had.

Then Zabini had jerked awake with a snort, interrupting her thoughts, interrupting their terse silence, interrupting like he had done the night previously. Shaking her head once more, she'd fled to her bedroom.

She had been ignoring her feelings since then, but then Theo had come back and she'd been confronted with a rush of emotions that had overwhelmed her. Even after Malfoy had made her kiss him at Christmas and her insistence that it meant nothing and she should forget about it, she'd gone and almost ruined things again.

The worst part was that she couldn't even think why. Yes, she'd been lonely; yes, she'd been desperate for a connection with another human; yes, she'd gotten caught up in the moment - midnight on New Year's Eve, the most romantically charged moment of the year, or so society would have her believe. But that did not justify or explain why she'd initiated the... well, the 'something' that had happened that night. She wanted to kick herself.

She was an utter, utter fool. Perhaps she really did have a subconscious tendency to ruin things for herself after all. Everything with Theo had been wonderful, as perfect as it was possible to be given the circumstances, and yet she couldn't just be content- like some part of her wanted to get out of the relationship. But she didn't want to be without Theo. Hermione liked him a lot, but regardless, something in her was making her do unruly things and it made her angry.

She had thought this through many times but hadn't been able to come up with a reason why she'd done it, except that maybe she'd been bewitched, which seemed unlikely. Though she knew it was only right, she was sick of feeling guilty... but instead of resolving it, the only thing she wanted to do was to push it to the back of her mind.

What remained of the old-Hermione called for her to do the right thing and simply tell Theo, but the new egotistical part of her told her that ignorance was bliss and she should disregard the guilt. She chose to do the latter. It wasn't something she usually did, but then again, neither was kissing Slytherins until recently, and look how that had turned out.

One morning, about a week into classes resuming, she was sat alone at breakfast, re-thinking over all this for the millionth time. Whooshing over her head signalled the usual arrival of the post; she collected her Daily Prophet but received nothing else, though she was hardly surprised by her lack of correspondence. She had no-one to write to her anymore.

As usual, she searched the paper for a sighting of Harry or Ron, but as always, there was nothing. The only thing worth reading was a small story about some kind of disturbance in Hogsmeade a few days ago. According to the paper, Dervish and Banges had been broken into and the shopkeeper and his son, who slept over the shop, had been attacked, but not seriously injured. It made Hermione feel sick –so close to the school, innocent people had been attacked- so she put away the paper for the day.

From her solitary perch at the breakfast table, she noticed Theo eating, also alone, when a snowy white owl dropped a letter onto his plate. She observed him open it and read it and then his face turned thunderous. Even at a distance he looked as though he was shaking with rage. After thirty seconds of reading, he screwed the note up into a ball and stuffed it into his schoolbag, shooting a dark look at it. Hermione had little time to wonder what in the letter had made him so mad before he had swigged the last of his coffee and had got up. She too stood, hauled her bag onto her back and crossed the room to the doors, where Theo was waiting for her.

This had become their routine over the last week. They greeted each other, exchanged a brief kiss hello, and then took each other's hand and walked to their first lesson. Then in all their shared lessons, Theo moved himself from his lone desk to a seat next to her, so that she too was no longer alone. He was good to work with: he never talked when she was taking notes; he didn't ask to copy her; but when they talked, conversation was easy and light.

They spent the morning working together in classes, being bothered by no-one else apart from hearing the occasional whisper as they walked through the corridors holding hands, or seeing stares of disapproval from fellow students as they passed. Their relationship was still somewhat of a headline among students. Hermione was being shunned by her fellow Gryffindors and Theo more so was getting a lot of grief from his housemates.

Something Hermione had discovered about Theo recently was that while his nature in general was charming, quiet and kind, when he was under pressure he tended to take the strain quite badly. While he was coping relatively well with his housemates' treatment of him, sometimes the stress got to him and he would become irritable and snappish. More than once they had had a silly argument about it but he would always find her and apologise afterwards.

After eating lunch separately, they met up once more at the doors to go to double Potions, their last lessons of the day. Hermione had noticed that Theo had been getting gradually more annoyed all day, and she had also seen him frequently pulling out the balled up letter, glaring at it hatefully, and then putting it back.

"Are you alright?" she asked him vaguely as they walked to the dungeons.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" he replied, trying to look happy and failing.

"Because you've been looking more and more aggravated since breakfast."

Theo looked at her knowingly. "You obviously saw me get my letter his morning," he said, smiling at her observance.

"And I've seen you looking at it sometimes during the day," Hermione confirmed. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. It's not a big deal; it's just a stupid letter. I can cope."

This was another thing she'd learnt about Theo recently- he was intensely private.

"Ok then," she said, not wanting to push him.

She cast around in her mind for another topic as they climbed down the last set of stairs into the cold depths of the dungeons. It being winter, she could actually see her breath misting around her and the warmth from the crowd of her classmates who had already arrived did little to heat the air.

"How was your dad after the ball?"

This was something she'd avoided talking about since he'd returned. His dad was one of the big obstacles to their relationship. Plus, at every mention of the word 'ball' her stomach would twist uncomfortably. It couldn't be healthy to supress so much guilt and to lie so much, could it? But even that wasn't enough to convince her to tell Theo the truth. Something in her gut told her it was a bad idea.

Theo scowled. "Pissed off," he said glumly. "He found out I'd gone, and then he grilled me for about an hour when I came back. So I told-" He faltered. "Safe to say, he wasn't very happy. Then again, he's never happy with anything I do, so it's nothing new. I'm the family disappointment."

It struck Hermione how sad Theo's childhood sounded, with a father as strict as his.

"He's not going to be happy with me, is he?" she asked.

"No. But I am, so it's not an issue. I've told you before: I don't care what my dad thinks."

Theo smiled, but he still seemed irritated beneath it. At that moment, the potions room door opened and Professor Slughorn beckoned them in before his eyes landed on Theo.

"Ah, Mr Nott, just the boy I wanted to see! Could I have a quick word?"

Theo nodded, let go of Hermione's cold hand and told her he'd be right back. He followed Slughorn out further into the corridor, far away from the classroom so that they wouldn't be heard. As Hermione watched him go and wondered what Slughorn wanted, she saw Malfoy stood directly behind her. She jumped forwards in shock. Since that first awkward day of January she'd ignored him which had been difficult to manage but easier for her conscience. Currently he was looking at her oddly, almost sadly.

"I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. I apologise for eavesdropping."

His tone was so formal and wooden that it barely sounded like him.

"It's fine," she said uneasily.

Everybody else had already gone inside, leaving just the two of them and the distant Theo and Slughorn in the corridor. That look of sadness stayed in his eyes and she still couldn't make sense of it.

"I just wanted to say that it seems like I was wrong about Theo. Hearing what he said to you about his father… well, I thought he would have caved by now. He's been true to his words."

Hermione frowned but she didn't really know what to say.

"I just hope you know what he's doing for you. You must be really important to him for him to defy his father for you. Mr Nott isn't a particularly nice man. He's going to a lot of trouble for you. I hope you realise that."

He stared at her solemnly for a brief moment before he walked into the classroom behind her and she reluctantly followed him in, puzzled.

It seemed to her that Malfoy had just told her, in a very roundabout way, they she was lucky to have Theo and that he was going out of his way to be with her, which of course he was. But Malfoy had always been so begrudging and unaccepting of their relationship that for him to say these things without any hint of reluctance was crazy. But it had just happened.

Not only that, but his tone had seemed to imply that he disapproved of her actions. That she was a bad girlfriend, and possibly that she didn't deserve Theo at all. He had reason to think so, certainly, given that both her indiscretions involved him, but why had he decided it was his place to give her some kind of lecture? It had been so random, so out of the blue… was he simply trying to make her feel so guilty that she and Theo broke up? It seemed plausible until she realised he could do that simply by breaking his agreement to her and just telling Theo they had kissed. It was all too confusing. She was sick of trying to dissect Malfoy and his motives, because it made even her head hurt.

Retrieving the cauldron of the potion she had been working on for the past few days, she sat down just as Theo arrived back in the room with a moan of irritation.

"Apparently, Slughorn can't let my impromptu arrival to the ball slide. I broke some health and safety rule, according to him. I didn't even know Hogwarts had health and safety; I mean, Slytherin's monster could run rampant in our second year but I turn up at the ball unscheduled and they're up in arms? It doesn't make any sense," he groaned. "Anyway, I have to do a detention, which is just another thorn in my side."

Hermione smiled sympathetically at him but her stomach felt like it had turned to lead. There was another item she had to add to the list of things Theo had done for her. She felt awful. Maybe Malfoy was right. Maybe she didn't deserve him. Maybe she was just selfishly clinging on to him because he was so lovely and kind and those were the things she wanted in her life right now.

They spent most of the rest of the lesson in silence. The potion making was meticulous work and both were concentrating too much to waste any time on conversation. Hermione was secretly glad she had an excuse not to talk to him because fear of her own changing personality was causing her lunch to threaten to make a second appearance.

She and Theo were making Amortentia, under the careful instruction of Professor Slughorn. By the end of the lesson, both of their cauldrons were full of perfect potions with the same mother of pearl sheen, protruding dancing spirals of steam. Hermione remembered with nostalgia this time a year or so previously when she'd been able to smell cut grass, new parchment and, though she hadn't said it out loud, Ron's hair. She knew, even without inhaling the steam, that she wouldn't smell the last one now.

"What does yours smell like?" she asked Theo suddenly.

He looked up at her, her eyes burning with curiosity, with a small smile.

"Well let's see," he said, inhaling the shimmering liquid in his cauldron. "Books, new books… ink… strawberry and vanilla… and mint… no wait, it's mint toothpaste." He looked up at her with a real smile, the first genuine smile she'd seen on his face all day. "It smells like you do."

Hermione felt a very odd sensation in her stomach, what seemed to be a combination of butterflies of delight and the sickening feeling of being winded with guilt.

"What about yours?"

She looked away from him and sniffed her own potion, allowing the steam to get trapped in her nostrils. Smelling the potion was a peculiar experience. One second, Hermione could smell one fragrance, and then an odd sensation, like she'd just sneezed, would overcome her nose, and she'd smell something else.

"Parchment… freshly mown grass-" These two at least had remained constant. Then came the sneeze sensation. "Coffee… oh, musk and the woods…"

_This was more like it_, she thought. Theo always smelt like the outdoors, always like a wood, she thought, and like the coffee he constantly drank, and his cologne had a musky scent to it. She could smell him in her potion and it reassured her that she did like him and her stupid self-sabotages meant nothing…

And then she felt exactly like she'd just sneezed, the coffee-outdoorsy blend disappeared, and she caught a strain of something else. It was very faint, but she thought it smelt like citrus- maybe lemon but she couldn't quite tell- chased with a liquorice, aniseed smell. It was familiar but she couldn't remember where she had smelled it before; she just knew that a part of her brain was associating it with something bad, and was telling her that she shouldn't have noticed it at all. All she knew for certain was that it wasn't how Theo smelled.

But she didn't tell him this, nor did she state the last two scents out loud. She just looked him dead in the eyes, forced herself to smile, and said: "It smells exactly like you."

* * *

><p>For eight days, while Hermione counted, Theo received one letter every morning, a letter he would either tear up, screw up, or set fire to at the table discreetly with his wand.<p>

For eight days, his mood got progressively worse, his frown more deeply ingrained in his usually pleasant face, and he would snap at Hermione for silly things like writing too loud or knocking his elbow accidentally.

For eight days, Hermione tried not to let it get to her, thinking that maybe it was karma for her ill-judgement lately and that she certainly had no right to accuse _him_ of treating _her_ badly. She knew that whatever was in the letters would have to be stressful and vicious for Theo to have gotten so worked up about it, so she let it slide.

But the day the ninth letter arrived Hermione couldn't hold it back anymore, because that was the day Theo did not meet her at the Great Hall doors and instead left for classes without her. She'd seen him tear up the letter, push away his full plate of bacon and eggs, and get up. She had stood up too and walked towards the doors but he got there first and instead of waiting as he usually did, he walked out without her. After standing, dumbstruck, by the far end of the Gryffindor table for almost a minute, she'd swept out after him to Transfiguration, their first lesson.

He'd been there, outside the classroom, early even by their standards because there was no-one else around save for the people in the nearby portraits, and he was staring off into space. Hermione marched up to him with an uncontained fury in her eyes, stress from the week of snappishness finally overpowering her.

"Did you forget about me this morning?"

His gaze snapped towards her and his empty, glazed over, green-brown eyes met hers.

"Do you remember me now- your girlfriend? The one you've been snapping at for a week? The one you still won't tell what's wrong even though I'm the one you're supposed to trust to help you and support you?" she ranted.

Hermione knew even as she yelled at him that she was being hypocritical and that she could hardly chastise Theo for keeping things to himself when she was holding back some pretty big information herself. But his foul mood was irritating her, and it had come at entirely the wrong time, because it had been in the past week that she had seriously been considering giving her virginity to Theo.

She had concluded, while lying in bed after the fateful last lesson on her Amortentia, that she needed way to convince herself that she _did _like Theo, she _did_ trust him and want to be with him and she could see their relationship going places… and then the idea of having sex with him had hit her.

She was eighteen and a virgin, but she had been with Theo secretly for a month and then openly for another couple of weeks. She trusted him, he was kind and gentle and liked her too and she actually did feel ready when she thought about it. The fact that it would help her to convince herself of her feelings was purely a happy bonus. Perhaps, she had to admit, it was a bit selfish, but it seemed that selflessness had only brought her misfortune this year, all starting with her willingness to return to school, and that hadn't turned out well for her.

But since then she'd really set her heart on Theo being her first, and she'd simply been looking for a way to bring it up to him. Then the letters had arrived and scuppered her plans by spiralling Theo into a bad mood. Something in the universe didn't want them together because no matter what happened they always seemed to come out of it badly. They just didn't seem to work. And Hermione was sick and tired of nothing going right.

"I can't believe you didn't wait for me!" she finished.

"Hermione, I forgot, alright? It isn't a big deal- don't make it one!" Theo retorted angrily.

"It isn't just that!" she said. "Ever since those damn letters started coming you've been absolutely horrible to me. I know they might be making you annoyed and for whatever reason you won't tell me why, and that's your business, but for Merlin's sake don't take your irritation out on me!"

There was a dead silence as even the chattering portraits seemed to have stopped their conversations to listen in on the argument. Theo looked down at his feet and when he looked at her again his eyes were softer.

"I'm sorry. I haven't been fair on you, have I?"

Before she could reply, he scooped her into his arms and kissed her gently on the forehead.

"I'll try and keep my emotions in check from now on, okay?" he said placatingly and she nodded as he released her, trying to feel content with his apology and not like a total hypocrite.

* * *

><p>Though Draco didn't know it when he saw it, it was only two days after Theo and Hermione's fight outside of Transfiguration that he saw the pair of them arguing. It was the day that the eleventh letter in a row arrived for Theo, not that Draco himself had been counting. He'd seen the same white owl daily, flocking to Theo, dropping him a letter and then swooping out again, and he'd seen the way Theo seemed to hate them, but he hadn't bothered counting them.<p>

He'd been sat at breakfast minding his own business and eating some porridge in silence, sat opposite a sullen and still depressed Blaise and far away from everybody else. Daphne was sat with her friends a little way down the table from Blaise at such an angle that he could see her in his line of vision, and Draco noticed him looking up at her occasionally with sad eyes. She had seemed entirely unaffected by their break up since it had happened, but Blaise was at the other end of the spectrum.

Draco likened Blaise to an Inferi in his current state; he was somewhat of an empty shell, managing to eat, sleep, attend classes and walk from place to place, but he rarely spoke or communicated or did anything remotely human. He was nothing like his usual upbeat self, and it was only in the absence of it that Draco realised how much he'd depended on Blaise to balance his mood. It was almost like his depression was infectious, because minus Blaise's jokes and humour, he too was feeling rather unhappy.

It wasn't just seeing his friend being down though. His crush, or whatever it was, on Granger had begun to sting painfully and became blindingly obvious whenever he saw her and Theo together. It was frightening. He was getting too caught up with her far too fast. It was probably just part of his possessive and selfish nature, to desire her more because she was unattainable, or at least this was what he told himself. The flickering flames of longing that had been ignited within him on New Year's Eve refused to go away, and he had begun to loathe himself for getting so attached to her so fast.

He had nothing else to distract or occupy him now that Blaise was so wrapped up in his own grief, though Draco could forgive him with the wound of his breakup still very raw and fresh. Looking up, he watched as Blaise pulled out his silver hipflask and glugged some of the amber liquid inside of it into his coffee. He eyed his friend warily, raising one brow. As Blaise raised the mug to his lips, he frowned at Draco's evident judgement.

"It helps get me through the day," he muttered, before gulping down half of the contents of the mug in one go.

Draco shook his head. Blaise would probably end up having a serious drinking problem if he wasn't careful, and he made a note to step in if he got too dependent on the alcohol his mother sent him at his every request. He knew well enough some of the advantages of having parents embroiled in the Dark Arts- feeling guilty for being so distracted, they would buy their children anything they asked for.

"I'm off to Charms. Are you coming?"

"Not yet," Blaise replied and Draco nodded before leaving.

He was still a corridor away when he could hear it- Granger and Theo yelling. Could they never argue in private, he wondered? There had been mutterings among the students that many people had seen them having spats in the corridors or on staircases on their way to classes. He'd also noticed it too, and coincidentally it had come just after he had spoken to Granger in Potions.

When she'd almost kissed him at New Year, Draco thought she'd break up with Theo, being the noble person she was, but she hadn't. For what was probably only the third time he'd ever seen it, Hermione Granger had _not _done the right thing. So Draco had stepped in to make her see that what she was doing was wrong, bringing about one of two possible consequences- rectifying her relationship, or ending it. His little speech had been entirely spur of the moment and he wasn't sure why he'd said it…

No, actually, he was. He knew he'd said it mainly out of jealousy and that he'd been hoping the result of it would be that Granger and Theo would break up. He tried to pretend that he didn't know, but he was starkly aware of his motive.

"It doesn't concern you!" he could hear Theo shouting now. It surprised him because Theo rarely raised his voice. "So why do you need to know?"

"Because those stupid letters are making you act different and I hate it! You haven't been yourself," Granger replied, dropping her voice, perhaps because she'd become aware of how loud she was being. She was still audible though. "You've been upset and aggravated and I just want to know why. You apologised and said you'd try to keep calm but something is obviously really wrong… maybe I could help-"

"You can't fix everything Hermione. How could you help me? Snatch up the letters before I have chance to read them? You can't help, so just let me deal with it!"

"You aren't dealing with it though!" She sounded exasperated. "Why do you even read them if you know they're going to make you mad? Why not just not open them?"

By now, Draco was in the Charms corridor with them. It appeared he was not the only spectator, because a few other students were stood like him, listening and watching. The pair seemed oblivious to their audience.

"You don't understand," Theo replied coldly.

"Then help me to," Granger begged.

"You know what? Maybe we should just stop arguing, calm down, and we'll talk later. _In private," _he added in a hissed whisper, glancing round at the gawking students.

"Fine," said Granger bitterly, and she looked very unhappy.

She caught Draco's eye as she turned her back to Theo and slumped against the wall outside Professor Flitwick's classroom. And he couldn't help it. He involuntarily smirked in twisted delight. Things weren't all sunshine and roses for Theo and Granger, and that was definitely fine by him.

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><p><strong>Please try not to hate Hermione The Hypocrite this chapter, ok? She's very confused xD<strong>

**We hope you enjoyed this, action to come in the next upload, we promise ;) **

**See you all soon. **


	22. Nothing

**Hellooooo! So: exams done, prom done, school done, summer's begun and weekly uploads are back with a bang baby! xD That's pretty much everything for this week, haha! Thank you for lovely reviews as always and here's the long awaited action. Enjoy!**

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><p>At Hagrid's house, with a mug of tea in her hands and a plate of untouched stew in front of her (that Hagrid claimed contained beef but that seemed unlikely after Hermione unearthed a feather in it), Hermione felt better than she had done for days. Even while Hagrid informed her once more of the precarious state of the Ministry, or when he delivered the news that Tonks' father had been forced to go on the run because Death Eaters were rounding up Muggleborns in his area, she couldn't help but feel a little bit more optimistic about her private life.<p>

Sixteen days; sixteen letters; vastly more than sixteen arguments, ranging from big to small to colossal. But today, for the first time in a while, there hadn't been any fights with her and Theo. None. No harsh words had been exchanged, which left Hermione to believe that the arguments had simply formed part of a bad phase with Theo, a phase they would get through together, which was exactly what she wanted to do.

And over the past few days, Ginny had stopped giving her cold glares and dark scowls; she'd actually smiled at Hermione twice now when she'd caught her eye. It was next to nothing, and Hermione thought it was probably because Ginny must have seen her and Theo arguing and thought they were going to break up, but still, it was nice for her once-close friend to not treat her like she was some kind of pariah- although admittedly, she was a bit of one at the moment.

Apart from the news about Ted Tonks, Hagrid had little else he could tell her. From the sounds of it, not much was happening in terms of the war, although Hermione couldn't help but feel that perhaps it was merely the calm before a metaphorical storm. Hagrid was aware, however, of her and Theo. She had blushed beetroot red when he'd brought it up.

"Where did you hear about that?" she'd asked.

"'S a bit of a hot topic around school at the moment. Heard it in the hallway when I was goin' ter see Dumbledore the other day. Why didn' yeh tell me?"

"I didn't think it was that important," she'd mumbled. Discussing her boyfriend with Hagrid was not something she'd ever imagined happening. "But apparently it is to the rest of the school. And Ginny."

Hagrid had picked up on her slightly sour tone. "Why?"

"Because she's been ignoring me since I started seeing him. She doesn't think I should be going out with him."

Hagrid had nodded sagely. "Is it abou' Ron?"

Hermione had been surprised by how knowledgeable Hagrid actually was. She'd nodded.

"Ah, she'll come round, Hermione. Don' yeh worry. Jus' give her some time."

After considering his words she had decided that he was probably right. He had been about some things in the past at the very least. And so, that was how she came close to feeling content as she clutched at her mug of tea, sipping it and trying to draw from it all the warmth that she could.

About eight o'clock there was a light rapping on the door- it was Theo come to pick Hermione up as she'd requested that morning. Hagrid opened the door, greeted him with a gruff "Hello," and after he had quite politely informed Hagrid he had come to pick up Hermione, he then nodded approval at her with a wink when Theo's back was turned. It made her smile. She cheerily waved goodbye to him and then she and Theo set off across the grounds.

Frost made the grass crunch under their feet and she could hear a bitter wind whipping and howling through the forest to her left. The night was cold, but annoyingly Theo was colder. He took her hand but his hold felt a little reluctant, not his usual firm, comforting grip. In profile, he looked almost the same as he always did – full lips, strong jawline, dark greeny-brown, beautiful eyes- but he looked sad. His shoulders were hunched, his chin was tilted down and he hadn't looked at her once since he'd picked her up. She was starting to get worried.

The silence overcame her.

"Did you finish your Charms homework for tomorrow?" she asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Not yet," he replied. She waited for some kind of expansion but none was forthcoming.

Darkness enveloped them and what little light there was came from the almost full moon and the stars above in the clear sky.

"Are you alright?" she inquired. It seemed like she had asked him almost nothing else over the past two weeks.

"Yeah, fine."

There was another uncomfortable pause that stretched out while they walked up the stone steps to the front doors.

"No you aren't," Hermione said finally, staring at him with narrowed eyes.

He stopped in his tracks, barely one foot in the Entrance Hall, and she stopped too. He let go of her hand and at long last he turned to meet her scrutiny. He didn't even bother replying; he just sighed. Then, with a final sad look up at her, he left her stood there and began walking up the main staircase.

So cold. He was never usually like this- only recently. For the first few months she had known him, he'd been sweet and caring and kind. But then with the arrival of the letters it was like he had transformed into some kind of monster version of himself.

She needed to know. It was wired into her, in her very blood: her natural inquisitiveness. She needed to know why, at last, and damn his privacy, because being kept in the dark was driving her crazy.

Setting off after him, she tore up the staircase after Theo, the tip-tapping of her shoes on the stone the only sound echoing around the empty space. She caught up with him at the end of the corridor.

"Will you _please_ just tell me?"

Hermione stopped and stood directly in his way, effectively blocking his path. When he tried to move her to one side she slammed her fists against his chest.

"You aren't going anywhere until you tell me why you're being so… so… not you! What's _wrong_ with you?" she shrieked desperately.

Without any kind of warning, Theo opened a nearby door and guided Hermione with a slight hand on her waist into an empty classroom. There was barely any more illumination in this room than there had been outside- the moon shone in through the window and three candles stood in a cluster on a desk had ignited themselves when they had walked in. Neither of them bothered to create any more light.

Hermione turned around, ready to force an answer out of him, fury and desperation in her eyes, when he did the last thing she'd expected him to do and kissed her. He cupped her cheeks with his hands, lightly entrapping her lips with his before he pulled away, almost regretfully, and rested his forehead on hers. She didn't know what to say so they stayed silent for a while, stood like statues with their heads pressed together and his hands on her face.

He eventually stepped back.

"I'm sorry."

"What are you-" she began but he held up a hand to stop her.

"Just let me talk, alright?" He looked like he was about to be sick. "I'm sorry for being so awful lately. It's been these letters. They made me mad."

He didn't look mad to her, only unhappy and confused.

"Who were they from, Theo?" she said, phrasing the question she'd been pondering over for a while.

"My- my dad," he stammered.

Hermione's heart sunk. This conversation did not bode well. She stepped a little closer to him and took his hand, squeezing it gently. Not knowing what to say, she just waited for Theo to respond. It took him a while, like he was struggling to form words. He kept staring at his feet.

"When I got home after the ball he was livid that I'd snuck out on him. He was waiting for me in my room and he started yelling at me to tell him where I'd been, what I'd been doing, who I'd been with. He really doesn't like it when I don't do what he says. So I told him that it wasn't any of his business but he kept screaming at me louder and louder and he started shaking me so in the end I just shouted it all back. About the ball. About you."

Theo took a deep sighing breath, let go of her hand (which she now realised was shaking) and started pacing slowly around the room. What he'd just described sounded horrible and she felt awful. It was all because of her.

"He went crazy. I've never seen him like that, ever. He was screaming that I should be ashamed and that he'd disown me but I just told him he barely treated me like a son as it was. After that he refused to talk to me for the rest of the holidays. He locked himself in his study," Theo murmured.

Hermione couldn't imagine anything worse than being blanked out by your own parents, even if they were as bad as Theo's dad seemed to be. Suddenly, Theo stopped pacing and stared at Hermione with wide, crazy eyes.

"You know who my father is, don't you? Whose orders he follows?"

Hermione nodded. They'd met before briefly, when she'd stunned him at the Ministry in fifth year. It was no wonder he was so angry about her. She was getting more and more fearful by the second.

"Well when I got back to school he started writing to me. Telling me I had to break up with you and that you were beneath me… all that Pureblood crap. I tried to ignore it but it made me so angry that he thought he got a say in our relationship so I started taking it out on you… I can't apologise enough for that, Hermione," he added, sounding sincere though his voice was getting progressively shakier.

He looked deeply into her eyes and for the first time in a while she felt that fluttering sensation in her stomach, like the first time they'd spoken. But then he started pacing again and she went back to just feeling sick.

"Then I think he must have realised his abuse and orders weren't working so he got worse."

"But… but I thought you said you don't care what your father thinks?" she muttered, feeling hurt and betrayed and sad all at once because she thought she could see where the conversation was leading.

"I don't, Hermione. Not about what he _thinks. _But he told me about what you- I mean, what _us_ meant for my family. It's no secret my father is a follower of the Dark Lord. I'm surprised they even let me back to school since I'm his son… but he told me that if You-Know-Who heard that the son of one of his most loyal servants was mixing with a Muggleborn, he might take it out on my father. For not raising me properly… or controlling me enough."

She didn't even realise she was shaking her head so fiercely until it started to pound and she got dizzy.

"That's... that's blackmail, Theo," she muttered in disbelief. Could that be possible? Could she pose a danger to his family? "I mean... it might not even be true-"

"I know it's blackmail, and I know my dad might be lying," Theo replied with a heavy sigh. "But I can't take that chance. I have to look out for _everyone_ I love."

"So… so what does that mean then?"

But she was smart. She knew. She just wanted to hear it from him.

"Hermione," he said softly, stopping his pacing once more and staring at her despondently, "I don't believe it all like he does. I don't follow the Dark Lord. You know I don't. And my father isn't a nice person admittedly… but he is still my dad. Family has to come first. I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to him because of something I did."

There was a crushing silence until Hermione nodded solemnly.

"I see."

"I like you!" Theo gabbled frantically, grabbing her left hand in both of his. "A lot. I want to keep you safe and happy but I'm stuck right now. Maybe… maybe after this war-"

"Don't," she interrupted. "Just… don't."

"If it were you… you'd have done the same."

His voice cracked as he attempted to justify his actions. It was hurting him too, she could tell, but she didn't care. It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room and she could feel herself starting to suffocate.

"No," she choked, shaking her head and stepping away from him and tearing her hand away. "If it were me, I'd never have gotten your hopes up or been with you if I hadn't been in it for the long run."

Here she was being selfish again. She couldn't stand in the way of his family. Hadn't she done something terrible herself to protect her own parents? But pain and anguish blinded her usually infallible reason.

Calmly, and without saying anything else, she walked out of the room and left him, feeling a lump form in her dry throat. Even though things hadn't been great with them since Christmas, she'd still wanted it to work out, had hoped they could fix everything, and now that her hopes had been dashed she was absolutely crushed.

She heard him call after her, first her name and then: "Please stay safe, Hermione." Whatever that meant. But she didn't turn around.

There were a few older students wandering about, enjoying their last few minutes of being able to roam the castle freely until curfew. Somehow, she maintained a calm exterior and steady pace all the way to the fourth floor. If she could just make it to her dorm, then she'd have privacy…

She managed to fight back the tears until she was around the corner from her room. Then she noticed the gleam of silver on her wrist when it caught the light from the burning torches on the walls, and there on her arm was Theo's bracelet, taunting her. It was the reminder she didn't need, and came as a short sharp shock. When she felt the burning behind her eyeballs, she broke into a run and didn't stop until she got to the portrait; she sobbed out the password and flew inside, nearly falling as she stumbled, unable to see through the mist of her tears, through the portrait frame.

She saw him sat in his usual chair out of the corner of her eye. Why was he always around when she cried? She wanted to be alone, but in a few seconds she'd be able to… her room wasn't far away… only a few more steps and she'd be alone…

"Granger?"

His voice came to her but it was as though she was hearing it from a great distance. She didn't reply. She tried to flee but somehow he was quicker and had stepped in front of her, and so without realising it she'd bumped into him. She felt his hard chest in front of her and she could feel the strong grip of his hands on her shoulders.

"What's going on?"

She tried to tell him to let go, tell him it was nothing, or at least nothing to do with him, or that she wanted to go to her room, but all that came out of her mouth was a strange, strangled sob and without thinking about what she was doing she fell against him and succumbed to his strong hold.

* * *

><p>He hadn't realised what he was doing until he'd done it. Seeing Granger in floods of tears, so obviously upset, had made him feel like he'd just taken a blow to the chest with a sledgehammer.<p>

He'd stood up without thinking, called her name, stood in her way when she tried to run away because he'd been determined she wasn't going anywhere until he knew what was wrong. He'd grabbed her by her shoulders and looked directly into those doe-like, brown eyes of hers, eyes that were swimming in unshed tears ready to join those dripping down her cheeks, and then he'd simply asked her what was going on. His overwhelming desire to know almost incapacitated him.

Something in her had cracked when he'd asked, some internal emotional wall, and as a natural response to her choked sobs and the way she'd fallen forwards, like she was giving herself up to him, he had pulled her into his arms and guided her to sit on the floor in front of the fire.

As he slowly came to his senses and realised what was happening, he felt half like he was making it up, as though it was one of his dreams about her, and half like it wasn't even happening to him, but to somebody else and he was watching. But she was definitely clinging to _him_, her head buried in his t-shirt (which was growing damper by the second) and crying more quietly than she had been about five minutes ago.

Draco knew something was happening to him as he let Granger sob into him. Seeing her so miserable shouldn't have affected him so much; he'd wanted to find who hurt her and rip out their throat then come back and look after her. In a way, he'd kind of managed the second thing. He'd instinctively comforted her, as though it was the most natural thing to do, when in reality it was possibly the most unlikely scenario. Part of him was enjoying the feeling of her warm, tiny body so close to his. Of course, another part of him was screaming in protest.

The bit of his brain that was happy was also ticking over the situation like clockwork, absently mulling over various pieces of information as Draco rested his chin on Granger's head without realising he was doing so.

Granger was letting him comfort her. Granger was clutching him so tightly he could feel her fingernails digging into his back, like she was afraid to let go. Granger had almost kissed him three weeks ago. Granger and he _had_ kissed on Christmas Eve.

Did she maybe harbour the same niggling, persistent feeling for him as he did for her? A feeling that she was as reluctant to admit as he was, but that wouldn't go away? The very notion made him physically start but not so much as to disturb the weeping Granger. _Impossible, _he thought. What a ridiculous idea, she could never like him… but hadn't he thought that about her only a few months ago? And look where he was now.

Granger's sobs were getting quieter and more sniffly now. Her breathing was still ragged and jumpy but she was shuddering less. She shifted as though she was about to sit up so he let go of her, removing his arms from around her.

She sat up. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face wet and puffy and tear-streaked. But she still had an odd intrinsic brightness about her.

Perhaps she had become aware that she was basically sat on his lap; she scooted back so there was a few feet of space between them. She drew her knees into her chest and rested her head on them.

"I'm so sorry," she sniffed.

Granger was looking at the fire, not at him. Probably she was overcome with embarrassment for her lack of composure_- yes, she was_, he thought. He could see a blush colouring her cheeks.

"It's alright," he said.

There was an awkward silence and Draco could practically see the tension radiating from her.

"Remember the last time I saw you crying in here?" he asked, trying to ease some of the discomfort.

"Yes," she nodded. "Why?"

"You looked after me. With my bloody nose. Right?"

Again, she nodded.

"So I looked after you. We're even," he said, but with a slight smile.

He was so glad for their recent truce. It made things much easier for him, especially now his odd crush had come to light. He wanted to make her feel less like she had done something wrong. But everything with them was about getting even and not owing the other anything. It was almost pathetically funny. Everything was about power, and which of them had it.

Granger managed a watery smile and a soft chuckle.

Once more, silence descended. The fire danced in the grate in front of them and cast flickering shadows over her sad face and in her eyes.

"Are you going to ask me why I'm crying again?" she asked, looking at him with what he assumed to be a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

"That was the plan," he nodded.

She didn't speak for a few moments but he didn't want to push her, and he could feel awkwardness seeping back into the room. They had transgressed some kind of boundary tonight. She had been totally vulnerable to him; he had allowed her to be. He had relished it; what she had felt, he didn't know.

It seemed like she was ridiculously far away from him, but it couldn't have been more than three feet. Draco almost wanted her to start crying again, so that maybe she would crawl back into his arms, but that was highly unlikely. She had only clung to him because she had been lost to her normal judgement in the world of her pain, and she hadn't realised who she had latched on to. The thought hurt him more than it should.

"Theo broke up with me."

Draco looked up from his feet, which he'd been staring at in the quiet, with wide eyes. Had she said what he thought she had?

"Pardon?"

"Please don't make me say it again," she muttered. He heard her voice catch.

A big part of him was overjoyed for many reasons: because she was free now to pursue any feelings for him if she had them, though she probably didn't; because it meant that whatever reason Theo had for dumping her would probably be long-term, since he didn't see him dumping her for any other reason; because it meant he wouldn't have to feel the crushing envy anymore when he saw them together. But she was so upset that it was clear she'd liked Theo a lot. Which meant he mustn't register at all in comparison. He had no hope… which was good. Because he shouldn't have been hoping for her anyway. He should have been happy. Maybe two months ago he would have been. But not now.

"Why would he do that? He likes you a lot. I thought you two were happy?" he asked.

Draco had thought she might cry again, but maybe she was too exhausted to weep anymore because she didn't.

"So did I. But you must have noticed we were arguing," she said with a glance in his direction.

He shrugged. Of course he had - he'd delighted in it - but there was no need to bring it up when she was feeling so miserable. It would seem like he was rubbing her nose in it.

"I had some awareness. But couples fight. I thought you'd get past it," Draco replied, hearing the bitter resentment in his own voice.

It seemed Granger hadn't noticed.

"Me too."

"So why the break up?"

"He's been getting letters for weeks. From his dad. Saying that I was bad for him and that he needed to break up with me. He said that he didn't want to, but then his dad said that Voldemort would kill him if he found out the son of one of his Death Eaters was dating a Mudblood. It might even have been a lie, I don't know. I don't even think Theo knows for sure. But the way he saw it, it was me or his dad. Guess who he chose?"

Her cynical tone did not suit her one bit. _He_ was supposed to be the cynical one, and he'd always thought of her as more… well, more positive. More optimistic. In a way, more soft.

"You have to understand… with Purebloods, even for people who aren't fully convinced by it all, like Theo, family loyalty means everything. We don't have anyone but each other," he muttered. It was less to defend Theo, more to stop her sounding so sardonic.

"Right now, I don't care. I think I'm allowed not to care, right? After everything he said about not caring about his father? He went back on it. I'm entitled to some level of egocentricity."

Her point was fair, he admitted. She went back to gazing blankly at the fire, no longer looking sad. Just empty. Or maybe quietly angry.

"You can't say you're surprised though, Granger, surely?"

She looked at him inquisitively.

"In a way, this was bound to happen," Draco continued.

She looked momentarily confused. "In what way?"

"This whole thing was doomed from the start. He was a Pureblood, you're a Mud- a Muggleborn," he said. "It was never supposed to happen in the first place. The odds were always against you."

Granger seemed to take a second to absorb his words.

"Is that your way of saying 'I told you so?'" she half smiled.

"Well… I did give you fair warning," he replied carefully, trying to keep his tone even. "I told you time after time that he'd go running back to his father eventually. It wasn't intended to last."

"I didn't think so. I genuinely thought that we might make in in the long run. That we could have a long lasting relationship," she answered sadly.

Draco almost laughed derisively. No. Things for Pureblood families were too fucked up for them to ever get happily-ever-afters like the one she'd concocted in her head. Blaise and Theo and he were just three examples of the many. How could she not have known that? She was such an idealist, a true Gryffindor.

"What on Earth made you think that?" he asked.

"You did!" she snapped, staring at him and sounding angry all of a sudden. "You said, outside of Potions, that I must have been important to him for him to go against his father for me!"

Draco hadn't meant to provoke her. "Yes, and I meant it. But I didn't mean that he would defy him indefinitely. It was always bound to end like this. Even if it hadn't been because of his father it would have been because of… something else," he replied, arching his eyebrows to communicate that he was referring to their kiss and almost-kiss.

She must have comprehended because she looked away.

"But he was always going to hurt you, one way or another," he added sadly. "He made a promise to you that he didn't know if he could keep. I knew he couldn't. Maybe… I don't know. Maybe I got so mad at the two of you _because_ I knew that."

Granger looked back up at him. He didn't know why he'd said what he'd been thinking – he hadn't meant to – but some instinct told him not to stop. Silly Granger, drawing truth out of him like she always did.

"Maybe I didn't realise it… but I was getting angry to warn you to… well. To stop you ending up like this."

Her gaze was so intense that he had to look away.

"But you were so damn stubborn! You didn't listen to anything I said or stay away when I told you to and now look! You've ended up-"

He didn't get any further because suddenly Hermione had got up on her knees, had lunged forward and kissed him. Their lips pressed together gently and then before he knew it she had parted hers and he had responded. She snaked her hands around his neck and he automatically placed his hands on her waist as the kiss became more passionate and feverish and intense. Like she was making up for lost time at New Year's.

Draco knew it was madness to kiss her and enjoy kissing her so much, and that same part of him was screaming as it always did for him to get away from her but it was becoming fainter and fainter by the second until it was suddenly mute. She was just so incredibly tempting.

He couldn't quite comprehend how much he wanted her right now and how strong his desire to keep kissing her was. He only moved away from her lips to breathe and even then he felt like he would rather forgo oxygen than tear himself away from her. It was like no matter how close to her he got it was never enough. He tried to absorb every second until she came to her senses and ran off, when she remembered who it was she had turned to for comfort in some random, impulsive, spur of the moment decision. But she didn't.

Instead, she buried her hands in his white hair and began kissing him even more ferociously, desperately. It was not at all what he expected from her, but he was by no means objecting. He drew her onto his lap and pulled her so close that there was no gap in between them- no tiny, minuscule particle of air.

But then she started talking in between their kisses, her voice breathy, but audible.

"No… we need to stop…"

However, her hands clutched him tighter and her legs wrapped around him. He reluctantly left her mouth and began planting small grazes down her neck, the neck he had once clutched in his hand and left bruises on. Oh, how he regretted that now. He felt her shudder and gasp in what he hoped was delight.

"Tell me to stop, Hermione," he purred.

Desperately he tried to mentally will her to stay silent as he pressed his lips again to hers and for a while she did. But then he felt her hands loosen and then unwrap themselves from his back. She pressed her palms to his chest and muttered the one word he didn't want to hear.

"Stop."

So he did. He didn't want to, Merlin, he didn't want to, but he did, removing his lips and pulling away; sitting back and looking blankly at her, not knowing what was going to happen now; staring at her swollen lips, the pinkish marks he had left on her neck, the flush of her cheeks.

"Stop," she said again, more firmly.

"I have stopped," he said.

She pushed herself off his lap and got up, looking utterly startled. He got up too.

"Nothing happened," she said harshly, not sounding like herself at all. "Alright? _Nothing. Happened_."

Draco took one look at her heaving chest and dark scowl before he nodded.

"Sure," he confirmed resentfully.

The slam of her bedroom door was her only reply.


	23. Change

**So, I literally JUST got back from a week long residential visit in Scotland, (as in: ten minutes ago) and here I am uploading for you all... don't say I don't love you! In case you're wondering, it was a lot of fun, I met some really great people and I had a laugh, but there's supposed to be two more weeks of activities and I really can't be bothered going, so I shall stay at home and write fanfiction instead, as that is apparently my life now :) Not that I mind!**

**Thanks for reviews as always, and special thanks to LobsterMobster95 for always giving us lovely, long detailed reviews: when me and Nicole read them we always go "Oh, I love LobsterMobster!" :D AND of course, big thanks to everyody else who reviews too. **

**So this week, let us return to a very very confused Hermione and a crushed Draco. Drop us a review if you like. **

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><p>After her initial burst of uncontrollable weeping, Hermione didn't cry again. She felt too numb and shocked with herself to cry and so she went into a strange kind of waking coma for a few days. Before she knew it, the last days of January had melted away and she found herself in February.<p>

When she finally regained her senses she was bombarded with several emotions at once. The most obvious one was her anger. She was absolutely and totally furious with herself, so completely enraged that she could hardly stand to be inside her own body anymore. She assumed it was because Malfoy was the last person she thought she should be kissing, and that was part of it, but it took her a full day to work out the rest.

It was another one of those things she'd done that pointed to her changing and becoming different. Last year, she would never ever have even come up with the idea of kissing Malfoy, but not so long ago she had initiated one and continued it for a very long time. Longer that she should have.

Because she was aware that she had started it. She knew it, and it only added to her rage. It was like she had no notion of who she was anymore. She was beginning to lose her grip on everything: her personality, her reason, and apparently her sanity too.

The dull ache of sadness resulting from her break up still resonated within her too. Despite everything, she had really liked Theo. Enough to consider having sex with him at the very least. The bracelet he bought her for Christmas only a month or so ago, when they had been relatively happy, still gleamed on her wrist, but she didn't remove it. She felt that she couldn't take it off; she didn't want to lose the last little piece of him she could cling on to... or equally, the last piece of evidence that she had some free will, because she had chosen to be with Theo in the first place.

News of their break up spread very slowly by Hogwarts standards, though it was probably because no-one had been speaking to either of them. Gradually, however, some of the more observant students had become aware that Theo and Hermione could no longer be seen strolling the corridors hand in hand, and that Theo had moved back to a desk on his own in lessons, and at long last the knowledge rippled through the school, spreading rapidly once it had been realised.

Hermione had noted over the course of a few days that Theo had now shut himself off even more completely than he had done before they'd even gone out. He was never seen in the company of anybody else and always looked miserable and avoided her eye. She eventually felt sorry for him for having such a terrible and overbearing father and her anger at him had faded away when she'd compared his dumping of her to all the things she'd done to him.

A few days into February, as Hermione ate her usual lonely lunch and tried to quell the self-loathing stirring in her stomach, Ginny came bounding over to her with a grin on her face and startled her. She was surprised to see Ginny so close to her and looking so happy, but couldn't help but feel glad that at least someone around her was acting remotely friendly.

"Hello," smiled Ginny.

"Hi," she muttered, pushing her soup away.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Ginny asked, a tad condescendingly, still with the same silly grin on her face.

"Yeah, fine," she lied. What else was she supposed to say?

"You're not really, are you? I can tell. But you should be. I know it must have been hard for you to break up with Nott, but I'm glad you saw sense and finished it all before it got messy. Honestly, I have no idea what you were thinking in the first place... but it's done now. I forgive you."

Evidently, the information as to who broke up with whom was not public knowledge. Had she been feeling her normal self, Hermione would have informed Ginny that it was not she who had ended things, nor did she believe it was her who should be being forgiven, but she simply didn't have the energy for a fight. Instead she smiled weakly, muttered a small thank you and then Ginny slipped herself into a seat opposite her.

"I know you don't have many friends at the minute, so I'll stay with you in Hogsmeade next weekend too, if you like. Everybody will forget about this whole thing soon and you'll be back to normal in no time," smiled Ginny.

_If only_, thought Hermione, She sipped some more of her chicken soup.

"I wasn't actually going to go to Hogsmeade this time," she replied.

The place had brought her nothing but bad luck so far this year. Ginny looked shocked.

"Of course you're going! It'll be the day before Valentine's Day so Honeydukes will be getting all their special chocolates in... We had such a good time looking at them the other year," she said.

Hermione remembered. It had been reasonably good fun.

"It'll cheer you up, I promise. Although why you need cheering up I don't know. You should be happy that you did the right thing."

A flicker of anger crossed Ginny's face. Hermione didn't like this side of her- the stubborn part that had to keep making her point for ages after the topic had been discussed.

"Alright then. I'll go," she conceded.

Ginny beamed with pleasure and Hermione sat back and allowed her emotions to wash over her once more as Ginny and she ate.

By the end of the day it seemed that Ginny had been hard at work convincing the rest of their house not to shun her anymore. A few Gryffindors had begun to warm to her slightly, and she was quite grateful. But she still couldn't escape the unavoidable pull of her anger.

When she really thought about it, there was at least a portion of her (however small it may be) that was angry purely because she had stopped herself, which in turn made her even more infuriated with this part of her brain. The whole thing was a maddening cycle of craziness.

She knew though that maybe, a little bit of her had wanted to keep kissing him, and she thought she had some evidence. Afterwards, when she'd locked herself away from Draco, she'd found herself drowned in his scent, a result of being so close to him. And it was unmistakably the lemon and aniseed fragrance she'd got the hint of in her Amortentia that time. She shuddered at the memory. It was not a good sign.

A bit of her had wanted it... maybe still wanted it, and had done for a while. After all, _she'd_ leaned in,_ she'd _fisted her hands in his hair, _she'd_ tried to kiss him once before. She just couldn't seem to help herself around him. It was like the second he entered a room, every ounce of her sense and her intelligence flew away and disappeared completely, and these instances where she'd given in to her impulses were happening more and more nowadays. Since Christmas. Since their lips had first met.

It wasn't that he was irresistible, that was the wrong word. He was... He was more like inescapable. Everywhere she went, he was there. She had been forced to spend time with him, and evidently it had culminated in this strange side-effect. But she would have to try and escape him. She would keep her distance from now on.

It often happened that just as Hermione decided to do something, a situation was thrown into her path by some strange universal force to test her resolve. It happened to her when she arrived back at her dorm after the challenge that had been the day. She was exhausted from fighting with herself, worn out from arguing with her conscience and flipping between feeling mad and depressed, and so she just wanted to forget about her day, ignore her homework for a bit and have a nap. Fleetingly, she found herself thinking lightly that she really must be changing if she was considering putting off her homework, when Malfoy strolled past her as he came out of the bathroom.

"Evening," he said casually as he passed her, nodding at her.

The single word, their first since the other day, was enough to make her stop in her tracks. She knew she'd been harsh and possibly cruel to him after they'd kissed when she'd dismissed him. Not that she was obnoxious but from the way he'd kissed her back, like he'd been waiting for it for a long time, and the sour face he'd pulled when she'd left him, she'd thought that maybe he... well, she thought that now he'd be a little more irritated. But he seemed perfectly fine.

"Are you feeling alright?" she asked tentatively, turning to face him.

He was poised by the portrait hole, as though he'd been about to leave when she'd spoken.

"Yes," he said with a small smile that suggested confusion though his eyes stayed unreadable and blank. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Hermione was taken aback.

"Because- because of- well, everything that happened the other day," she spluttered. "I thought after what happened that-"

"After _what_ happened?" Malfoy asked.

His voice was a pretence of confusion but his face held no illusion of a bemused grin. His eyes flashed momentarily with something dark. Hermione stayed silent.

"I'm only doing what you said. I'm acting like nothing happened, like you wanted. Because nothing did happen, did it Granger?"

Her own words came back to her, and she realised what he was doing. Hermione noticed for the first time how emotive his gaze actually was. He looked at her intently, like he was testing her.

"No. No, you're right," she confirmed stiffly. "Nothing happened."

Why did it sting so much more to say the words again than she recalled it had done the first time?

"Glad we're on the same page," Malfoy said lightly, but his tone held an underlying note of something more resentful. "Oh, and while you're here, I've been told by Lavender to tell you that Theo has changed partners for rounds again."

Hermione nodded. "Right," she said vaguely, still in a haze caused by the strange sting of his nonchalance. "So what does that mean for the rest of the schedule?"

Malfoy looked at her like she was dim. "You wrote it... surely you should know?"

She said nothing. A lot had happened between her writing the schedule and now which had wiped it from her brain.

"It's me and you. Lavender and Theo. Like before the last swap," he said, and she felt her shoulders stiffen.

_No, no, no!_ She was supposed to be avoiding him. How could she do that if she'd have to spend extra time with him two hours a week?

"I must say, I wasn't aware of how easily one could change partners. It certainly seems like no big deal for Theo."

"Special circumstances," she muttered.

"I suppose so. Anyway, I'm going out for a while. But don't worry, I'll be back in time," he said.

"In time for what?" quizzed Hermione, hating how unusually ill-informed she must seem.

"In light of the new schedule, Granger, we now have rounds tonight at nine o'clock. Just me and you." He swallowed. "Don't go disappearing on me now, will you?"

_Like last time,_ Hermione mentally added, bitterly noticing that Malfoy's stiff stance and unhappy curl of his lip suggested that he had just thought the very same thing.

"I won't," she said.

He nodded solemnly.

"Good. I'll see you later," he replied.

"Bye."

"Bye."

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><p>Draco left the dorm and began the walk to the Slytherin common room, though he took his time. Spending time with Blaise had used to be fun and had kept his mood up in past years but now it felt more like a chore. Since he'd had his heart ripped out and pissed on by Daphne, Blaise's mood had not improved in the slightest. It was because of this that Draco was forced to consider that Blaise may actually have loved Daphne as he had claimed. He didn't know what he'd expected from his friend- maybe that he could take it all in his stride or bounce back after a week of wallowing - but one month in and it seemed like there was no way he'd be getting any better soon.<p>

Never having had his own heart broken, not really, Draco felt there was little he could actually say to Blaise, yet he still requested Draco's company frequently. Usually he just sat there while Blaise looked sad and drank. He was indeed, as Draco had feared, getting more and more dependent on the whiskey his mother sent. Often, Draco took it upon himself to try and look out for his friend and stop him getting too drunk by emptying the bottle as Blaise got tipsy and claiming that he'd already finished it. Sometimes Blaise believed him. Most of the time he didn't and would get aggressive. Draco had already mastered a healing charm to disguise his black eyes.

He slipped into the common room using the password that Blaise had given him and saw him occupying the same spot as always in the high-backed leather armchair by the fireplace. Sighing, Draco walked over and planted himself in a nearby seat.

"Alright?" he asked.

Blaise didn't reply immediately, though he looked up and nodded in acknowledgment of Draco's arrival.

"Perfect," he said dryly after a few seconds.

Draco knew Blaise was hurting, knew he was trying to cope, knew he was drinking to numb his pain, but he couldn't help but want to get up and leave even thought he'd only just sat down. He'd begun to learn certain warning signs that Blaise was in for a rougher night than usual, and he could spot them now: he had a dark scowl on his face; one hand was clenched into a fist while the other was clutched, trembling, around a tumbler of his alcohol; his eyes had more of a glassy look than usual and he looked a cross between lost and murderous. This wouldn't be a night of silence and drinking. Blaise would want to talk.

Despite how depressed these conversations made him, Draco preferred them to the silence. Silent nights were the nights he spent thinking about Granger, and at least listening to Blaise's woes would stray his mind from her for a bit.

"Drink?" asked Blaise like he always did, and as usual, Draco shook his head. He had to keep his wits about him to make sure Blaise stayed relatively ok.

While pretending like he'd been fine to her just before he had left had been hard, what had been harder was not storming into Granger's room just after they had kissed and demanding she explain why she'd done it.

He knew. Or he thought he did. She'd been a lonely girl seeking comfort, like she had been on New Year's Eve. But it shouldn't have been with him. It also shouldn't have hurt so much when she'd all but rejected him. She should have controlled herself. He had realised that his 'crush' clearly ran a little bit deeper than he'd originally thought the second she'd slammed the door on him and he'd felt the urge to smash up the room or lock himself in his bedroom in solitude for a few days.

She was confusing and a tease. She shouldn't have taunted him so with her lying lips then cut him off with harsh words and denial. She was wicked. But irritatingly, that only made him want her more.

He forced his mind off her, and onto Blaise, his distraction. He watched him warily while he refilled his glass.

"Are you sure you want to drink tonight? Maybe you should have a rest," he suggested cautiously, rubbing his tired eyes.

Blaise shot him a dangerous look.

"I'm definitely sure I don't want a rest. Leave me to it."

"Fine. Sorry," Draco said coldly. This wasn't the Blaise he knew.

There was a pause as the common room hummed around them with friendly chatter... and there they were. Two lonely and moody boys forming an island in a sea of people without problems.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped," Blaise said after a while, raising his glass to his lips and not sounding in the least bit apologetic.

"It's alright. Given your current state I hardly expect manners to be your top priority."

He leant back in the chair and stared at the fire, which hissed and crackled softly and looked green in the light of the room.

"I'm sick of feeling like shit, Draco."

It was starting. Draco braced himself.

"I know mate. But it'll get better eventually. She isn't worth it... you'll realise soon."

Blaise smiled sadly. "Cheers to that: to the day I get common sense!"

He raised his glass sarcastically then downed its contents.

"Despite it all though," he continued quietly, "I still love her. I don't forgive her. I won't ever forgive her for doing what she did, but I do love her. I'd get back with her in a heartbeat if she wanted it."

Draco had nothing to say to this. Daphne did not deserve his love.

"If you can learn one thing from my mistakes, ferret, it's that women bring nothing but shit," said Blaise emphatically. "Seriously, forget what I told you."

"What you told me when?" asked Draco.

He could feel himself getting more depressed by the second. Blaise's words rang horrifically true- Granger had certainly brought him nothing but shit. Would this happen to him if he started to fall for her? _Don't think about that, _his brain warned.

"At the start of the year. We were sat right here, and you told me that you wanted something more, and that sex with random girls wasn't enough. I told you relationships and emotions were nice." Blaise gulped. "They aren't worth this... this fucking _feeling_ when they end. Because they will end. Nothing lasts forever but I was too stupid to realise. The temporary state of euphoria you feel when you're with them is nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to all this dark, empty, angry crap I feel now. Don't do what I did. Stick to sex- it's more straightforward. You know exactly where you stand with that. In, out, then you're done."

It sounded logical enough but it was coming from such a dark place in Blaise that Draco couldn't help but feel it was not the best advice. In fact, it was eerily reminiscent of things his father had told him in his youth about emotions making you weak. Draco assumed that heartbreak was probably awful, but wouldn't all the good times make it worth the pain? Wasn't heartbreak a fair trade for a bounty of happy memories?

"That's so heartless," he said before he could stop himself. "Surely... surely to do what makes you happy in the moment is better than not doing anything and shutting yourself off so nothing goes wrong? Surely it's better to have a broken heart than no heart at all?"

"You try it," Blaise muttered darkly.

Draco could get nothing more out of him for the rest of the time he was there, not that that was any huge loss. By the time he left he felt so desolate and so pissed off at Granger that he had no idea how he would make it through rounds with her.

He somehow made it back to his dorm though he hadn't been paying attention to where he was going. Granger was waiting for him and she looked as white and ghostly as she had before he'd left. She was distant, but Draco had expected it, knowing she'd be regretting their kiss. However he hadn't expected her to look so ill. She seemed to him to be very dazed and confused, and some of him thought perhaps she was confused by her feelings for him, though that probably wasn't the reason.

They spent so much of their time not talking that Draco began to seriously consider throwing himself out of the next window they passed just to escape the tension. To be so close to her, so tantalizingly, devilishly close to her, yet to have her acting to such a contrast to the last time was terrible.

Did she feel it? Oh, she'd be able to feel the awkwardness, certainly, because it was so thick in the air, but would she be able to feel his desperation and anger and pure _want _radiating from him like heat?

He did want her. His dreams were proof; they hadn't stopped, nor had they lost any of their intensity, but instead of trying to avoid them by staying awake, now he gladly succumbed to them, knowing that the only time he would ever get so close to her again was in his dreams.

Yet they did nothing but fuel his growing hostility because Dream-Granger and Real-Granger were too damn different; hostility that threatened to explode within him and burst out, white hot, damaging everything around him. He could only hope she wouldn't be in the way when that happened. She might find herself with fingerprint bruises on her flesh once more.

"How's Zabini?" Granger asked suddenly.

He looked at her blankly. How had she known to ask? His look must have made her feel the need to explain herself.

"On New Year's Day he was crashed out on our couch. I meant to ask you what was wrong with him but I... I forgot."

She hadn't forgotten. She'd just been too busy avoiding him to speak to him and now she was only asking him to make conversation. But he obliged.

"Not good," he replied guardedly.

"What was wrong with him when he- when he arrived?"

_She was going to say 'interrupted'_, he thought darkly, only that wouldn't fit with her game of pretending like nothing had ever happened with them.

"He'd just been dumped. So he's still not great. He really had feelings for her... but she screwed him over. Sometimes, women can be really heartless bitches, you know?" he asked with unnecessary venom.

That seemed to shut her up, and Draco was pretty glad. He couldn't cope with being normal to her now, not when she was screwing _him _over, like Daphne and Blaise. Maybe not in the exact same way, but it was similar. Wasn't he meant to be the callous one, and she the reasonable, sensitive, kind one? He didn't even know anymore. Everything was changing.

The rest of their rounds passed in silence.

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><p><strong>Ginny makes me mad in this chapter. We're sad that Blaise is still sad. We promise that their conversation has relevance and isn't there for no reason. And I just want to cuddle Draco. Poor sod. So many emotions, and I'm the one writing it... I'm crazy. See you on Friday. <strong>


	24. Pain

**A/N - Hello all, an exhausted Jade with you once more. I've written an insane amount of LB this past week and, as usual, my best work is done at night. I think I'm becoming slowly nocturnal... On the bright side though, last night I stayed up until 2AM writing mine and Nicole's favourite chapter so far. Which will probably end up being about chapter 30. **

**Warnings for this chapter - it's rated M for a reason other than some sexually explicit content (soon, I promise). This chapter contains some description of violence. It's not particularly bad, not in my opinion, but you have been warned. **

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><p>For Hermione, life returned to its ordinary state by the end of the next week, or as ordinary as it could after everything that had happened.<p>

Ginny and she held mundane conversations at mealtimes; she was less of a social outcast and had even been able to visit Ginny in Gryffindor tower a few times without getting turned away by angry housemates; and she was still pretending like Malfoy didn't exist, and neither did her annoying, conflicting emotions. It was her usual life, the life she'd had at the start of the year and might have missed a couple of months ago... but actually, she found herself beginning to begrudge it.

Something in her wasn't content with her simple existence anymore. She had no emotion or love or feeling in her world, and it saddened her; even at the start of the year, her arguments with Malfoy had provided some kind of fire in her but now she just felt drained.

The boys were still at the forefront of her mind as well, never going away, which did nothing but add to her growing discontent. Twice now, she had caught herself packing up her things so she could run away and join them, only to realise that she didn't even know where to start looking for them. Nothing in the papers, nothing from Hagrid; no single whisper of their whereabouts or wellbeing.

Ginny was waiting for her at breakfast the morning of their third Hogsmeade trip of the year, and she was strangely quiet as she picked at her bacon. A folded copy of the Prophet lay on the table to her right a little away from her, like she'd discarded it in distaste. Hermione still wasn't totally happy with Ginny after the horrible way she'd swanned over to 'forgive' her last week, but at the very least, sitting with Ginny was preferable to sitting alone.

"What's wrong?" asked Hermione by way of greeting.

Even nowadays Ginny was rarely seen so downcast.

"I just found out that Donaghan Tremlett - you know, the bassist from the Weird Sisters?"

Hermione nodded. The band had played at the ball only a few weeks ago and she'd danced to their songs.

"Well, he's a Muggleborn and he's... he's dead, Hermione."

"What?" she gasped.

"It was in the Prophet this morning," murmured Ginny, gesturing to the paper. "Only a small piece. Apparently he was hijacked by Death Eaters at his home. They tortured him, killed him and his neighbours saw the Dark Mark later. I mean... we only saw him two months ago. He was fine then."

Ginny paled then picked up the paper, handing it to Hermione. On the front page was a moving picture of the Dark Mark twinkling evilly in the sky as a crowd of people watched Aurors clear bodies out of a crater in what looked like a Muggle street.

"And ten Muggles were found dead last night, all killed by Death Eaters. They were just doing their everyday business," continued Ginny, her voice becoming shriller. "This is all so scary. It's so real. Too real."

Hermione understood what she meant but at the same time she didn't. It had always been real but now it was just… closer.

It was probably a shock because nobody close to them had been killed yet, not except Moody who had died on a mission. Nobody_ innocent_ had died yet, Hermione corrected herself, nobody they knew who wasn't in the Order and had been doing nothing wrong when they were murdered in cold-blood. This was the basically the closest either of them had got yet to the gritty realism of war. It crept up on people who had done absolutely nothing and cost them their lives.

Muggles and Muggleborns like herself were being killed daily outside the protective walls of the castle and it had taken the death of a celebrity for her to realise that? She was disgusted with herself.

She looked up at the staff table but Dumbledore wasn't there. Actually… Hermione couldn't remember when she'd last seen him. Had whatever had affected his hand at Christmas spread and rendered him bedridden? Was he clinging on to life? Or was he at the Ministry, or with the Order, trying to help them grip onto control for as long as possible? When would it all get too much for him? When would they all become lost without his guidance? So many questions. Never enough answers.

The rest of breakfast and the walk to Hogsmeade were spent largely in silence. Ginny and Hermione were both still too wrapped up worrying about the war to speak. The morning was bitingly cold and windy, so the gale brushing through the trees was the only sound for a while. A few weak rays of sun tried to break through the thick grey cloud cover but had little success.

The chill was sinking into Hermione's exposed flesh fast, so she suggested they go for a Butterbeer to warm them up. Ginny agreed, but The Three Broomsticks was emptier than usual and devoid of its normal cosiness. The whole place was almost deathly silent and the cold seemed to cling onto Hermione insides so that not even the Butterbeer helped. She couldn't stop herself from shaking. Even Madam Rosmerta was not her usual cheerful self - no doubt she too had read the Prophet today.

"I want to leave," said Ginny eventually into the silence, and Hermione needed no encouragement.

Out in the streets, she noticed that everybody in the village seemed to be avoiding the pub, either hurrying past its windows with their heads bent or walking on the opposite side of the little cobbled street. No doubt they had decided most wisely that they did not need scaring more. If only Hermione had known too, she would never have gone in. A few younger students were laughing and chatting and running around, enjoying their freedom from the confines of the castle and undoubtedly not worrying about the fate of the entire wizarding world as Ginny and she were.

Hermione couldn't help but look around at this place that in years gone by had been the setting of so much joy and laughter, yet more recently was becoming a host to the parasitic bad memories that swooped down on her in her darker moments.

Nearby was Gladrag's, where she had fallen out with Ginny, and the alleyway beside it where she had stolen a kiss from Theo the last time she was here.

She'd just visited the pub that Harry, Ron and she used to love so much and now she had to visit without them.

Somewhere on the horizon was the Shrieking Shack where she'd had more adventures with her boys... why did everywhere and everything remind her of them? From where she was standing now, the whole place was full of terrible, painful reminders.

She tried to force herself not to remember because she was becoming so forlorn she felt physically sick.

"Let's go to Honeydukes," she suggested at long last.

The little sweetshop, so colourful and innocent and bright, would surely make her feel a little better.

She and Ginny hastened through the blasts of icy air to the shop and the second they passed the threshold Hermione felt instantly glad. The place was packed to the rafters with boisterous, laughing people, like nothing had changed, and all the hustle and bustle and noise and colour made Hermione feel like she'd just sipped on liquid happiness.

Along one whole wall were the Valentine's Day sweets that Ginny had mentioned previously. They ranged from tiny and understated to huge and extravagant: there were boxes in heart shapes and in various hues of pink, red, fuchsia, violet; there were mountainous piles of bags of candies and truffles, some of which that were draped in luxurious bows that changed colour or others that warbled love songs when unwrapped; Hermione even noticed one box of chocolates that issued out heart shaped bubbles when opened. She couldn't help but giggle in delight, and Ginny's face split into a broad beam. The place was like one giant health tonic.

"You know what? I am going to buy a huge box for myself, selfish as that sounds," said Ginny decisively.

"Why?" asked Hermione curiously.

Ginny smiled; the place had definitely perked her up too. "I think I need it after this morning. I'll be my own Valentine this year."

Hermione smiled wryly. "That sounds like a good idea. I think I certainly deserve some love from myself too, right?"

For the first time in a very long while, Hermione had fun spending time with Ginny. They picked out the most lavish and garish gifts possible for themselves and left the shop laughing with their purchases. Hermione had bought the box with the bubbles, whereas Ginny had favoured a singing collection of pralines. Ginny had been right when she'd suggested the place last week- it _had_ made Hermione feel a bit better.

"What do you want to do now?" asked Hermione loudly over the howl of the gale, feeling much less hopeless than this morning.

"Well... I need to go post this to my mum," said Ginny, holding out a small box of strawberry creams she had bought for her mother along with the present for herself.

"I don't really want to go to the post office," said Hermione.

It was another place of painful memories. Fred-related painful memories. She wondered whether he'd forgiven her yet, but she didn't know for certain- she'd been giving him space, like George had suggested. She felt herself slowly begin to deflate again.

"Why not?" inquired Ginny.

"I just... don't," she replied.

"Oh," said Ginny, but for once she didn't push the subject. Hermione was grateful. "Well, I'll go, and I'll meet up with you in a bit?"

"Yeah, that sounds ok. Come find me when you're done, I won't have gone far."

"Will do," said Ginny before waving and walking off.

Hermione didn't want to lose her good mood now that she'd finally found it, but she didn't know where to go. And yet even now, feeling slightly better, her happiness felt intrusive and just wrong, like she shouldn't be ok when faced with the village that despite its best efforts was clearly falling apart. The Three Broomsticks losing its warmth, more and more shops boarded up… It was like all the goodness was slowly being leached out of the world, leaving only grey.

She wandered aimlessly along the high street for a while but the freezing wind got the better of her. Somehow, since Christmas she'd misplaced her gloves and her hands now felt chapped and raw, so she ducked into the nearby Dervish and Banges, thinking that she'd browse and perhaps find some new gloves, and then maybe go to the bookshop and find something new to read.

When she entered, the shop was empty. There was no-one behind the counter, no other customers perusing the wares. The door creaked and clicked shut, blocking out the noise of the weather outside. The small space was warm and cluttered, full of shelves that were crammed full of basic wizarding wares, from scales to telescopes to radios and crockery. She wandered past the shelf to her left, glancing over it, but she saw no gloves so she made her way towards the counter.

There was a large display on the counter top of what claimed to be "Anti-Dark-Magic Devices," and below it were trinkets like protective amulets, tinctures and ointments. Hermione couldn't help but think that Arthur Weasley would have a field day in here, carting away all the objects designed to scam the scared out of their money.

Suddenly, a boy materialised out of the stock room behind the desk and appeared in front of her. He looked slightly dishevelled; his long hair was messy and he had a fair amount of stubble growing on his spotty chin.

The way he was holding himself was peculiar- his head seemed to loll to one side, his shoulders were hunched and he didn't look at her, like he was having trouble focusing his eyes. He looked exhausted. Had he perhaps been having a nap on the job and she'd disturbed him?

"'Ello. Welcome to Dervish and Banges... can I 'elp you?" he asked vacantly. His speech was a little slurred.

"Oh, hello. No, I'm just browsing, thank you," she replied politely.

The boy nodded vacuously, his mouth hanging open gormlessly. Hermione thought for a second to herself that his movements were almost puppet-like, as though he wasn't fully in control of himself. Maybe he was drunk.

She continued to examine the shelves, but still she could see no gloves. Turning around, she saw the boy was leaning against the wall behind the counter with his eyes closed.

"Excuse me, I was wondering if you had any gloves?" she asked.

His eyes snapped open and Hermione saw that they were a piercing green but were glassy and unfocussed. For the first time since she'd walked in he looked at her properly. Hermione thought that she saw a flash of something, maybe recognition, in those eyes for a small instant, but then they went back to being vapid.

"Oh, I think we 'ave some somewhere," he replied. "They should be on the top of the shelf to your right."

"Thanks," said Hermione.

A feeling of unease was creeping up on her but she ignored it and craned her head up to look at the top of the shelf. There were gloves there but they were dragon hide ones designed for Herbology.

"Oh, they're not the kind I meant," she said.

"Sorry then. I can't 'elp you. There might be some somewhere though."

Still his speech was slurred and mumbled, but it suddenly became more urgent.

"You sure I can't interest you in one of our Shield Amulets? Deflects all Dark and Unforgivable Curses for only ten Galleons."

He was probably just desperate to con her out of her money. Almost nothing could protect you from Unforgivable Curses, certainly not those flimsy little lockets, she thought.

"No thanks," she said. "I can usually deflect Dark curses myself," she added, more to herself than him.

The boy fell silent and she allowed her eyes to skim around the shelves one last time, looking for anything resembling gloves yet not really taking much in. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck prick up and had the vague feeling that she was being watched. When she turned around, the boy was staring at her with a slight frown. It was as though his gaze kept zooming in and out of focus because he kept squinting.

"Do I know you?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head. She was quite sure she'd never met him before.

"No, I don't think so."

She tried to smile but the muscles in her face wouldn't respond to her brain. A coldness crept over her for the second time that day.

"No, no, I'm sure I know you... 'Ang on. Are you 'Ermione Granger? 'Arry Potter's pal?" he asked, still frowning.

She nodded uncertainly and swallowed, trying to clear the lump in her throat. "Yes."

The boy seemed to look triumphant at her response; he limply folded his arms and stood up straighter, leaning off the wall, but he was unsteady on his feet and swayed from side to side, like a small seedling in a breeze.

"I thought so. I seen you in the papers a few times. In pictures with 'im."

"Oh," she replied vaguely.

She didn't like the look he was giving her. His eyes were still glassy but somehow managed to pierce her with a glare that chilled her to the bone. After a second of intense silence, he ducked lumberingly under the counter and leant against the front of it, now about seven feet from where Hermione was stood. She felt less comfortable now that there wasn't a physical barrier between her and the boy.

"Didn't you order some candles from 'ere just before Christmas? For some fancy do up at the castle? They were for a Miss H. Granger... that was you, wasn't it?"

The boy seemed to have a remarkable memory.

"Yes."

She wanted to leave. She didn't like the way he was acting- it was more than a little creepy. The word Christmas triggered the surfacing of something in her brain... Christmas... just after Christmas there'd been a break in at this shop...

"Only, _you_ never collected 'em," continued the boy, snapping her out of her thoughts.

He stumbled gracelessly a few steps closer to her. She instinctively moved back only to find herself backed up against a shelf.

"Some bloke called Malfoy did. 'E weren't your boyfriend though 'cos I asked 'im."

"No, he wasn't. Isn't. Well, I think I'll be going now-" she said, moving towards the door, but the boy stepped in her path. For someone who seemed remarkably uncoordinated he was fast.

"'Old on a sec," he said darkly, his eyes narrow. Hermione was scared now. "'Ow come 'e collected your orders for you if 'e weren't your boyfriend?"

She didn't reply. There was something wrong with the boy, something really, really wrong. How had she not noticed the warning signs earlier? She was supposed to be smart...And why did he care so much about Malfoy?

"You been getting a bit close to 'im? Friends with 'im?"

"Please," she muttered in fright, "please just let me leave."

She tried to start forward again but he pushed her back roughly and she smashed into the shelf once more, knocking all the breath out of her body. She glanced towards the window but the boy's frame blocked her view. Could anybody see what was happening?

The boy's eyes were mostly pupil now, or so they seemed. The bright green was gone, replaced by a horrible murky colour like muddy pond water. No light glinted off them.

"Are you frightened, little Mudblood? You are a Mudblood, ain't you?" he asked mockingly. His slur was starting to disappear. "Everybody knows it. That Malfoy's a Pureblood. Everyone knows that as well. Or at least, everyone important does. So why was '_e_ running around doing errands for _you_? Like you're so much better than 'im?"

The boy's scowl deepened and then suddenly he pulled his wand out of his back pocket. Once more Hermione gasped and tried to run but he grabbed her and pulled her back easily. Her breath was coming out in short bursts and she was too terrified to make a sound. She should be screaming - maybe someone would hear - but fear paralysed her vocal chords.

"You are _so_ far beneath 'im, Miss Granger. Was one Pureblood not enough for you? You got shot of one but then 'ad to get yourself another?"

Was he talking about Theo now? What was going on? This was so confusing…

"Ever since we found out you were at 'Ogwarts, we've been waiting. We didn't know exactly where you was, see? Thought you'd maybe gone with Potter and Weasley. But we found out. We got eyes and ears everywhere," he said in a venomous whisper. "We didn't know if you were definitely still at 'Ogwarts, but we shoulda guessed, shouldn't we? Apparently you're a bit of a know-it-all. Well, clever little Mudblood… You can run from us, but you can't 'ide."

Had her whereabouts been a secret? She hadn't realised. Had the Order tried to cover it up, for her own safety? Who was this boy? Why was he doing this? And he'd said '_we'. 'We._' Who was 'we?' He suddenly broke out in a terrifying smile.

"Maybe you shoulda been a little bit more careful… But at least you finally turned up, eh?"

And then finally, Hermione realised why the boy's gaze was so empty but malicious, his movement so clumsy and forced, his speech slurred. He was cursed. Imperiused. The clumsiness came from the real boy inside trying to throw off the control of the spell's caster unsuccessfully... And now she remembered.

There'd been a break-in to this shop after Christmas. She'd read about it. The shop keeper and his son had been attacked but not killed- this must have been the son. They'd been cursed, planted to wait for her to wander into the store unsuspectingly then grab her. She scolded herself for not realising the signs sooner. Her emotions had clouded her mind.

What did it matter now? He was going to kill her. No, they'd want her alive. He was going to torture her, kidnap her and take her to Voldemort.

She tried to grab her own wand but the boy waved his lazily and muttered "_Expelliarmus_," and hers was gone, flung across the shop so she felt impossibly helpless and vulnerable. Why had she never mastered wandless magic before?

The boy grabbed her, flung her onto the floor in the centre of the shop so that she knocked her head and fell dizzy, a dull throb present where her skull had made contact with the wood. She looked towards the window, head still spinning, and thought she saw a cloudy figure silhouetted there, but it must have been her eyes playing tricks on her, because no-one charged in to save her.

Then, before she could even scream for help, the boy was towering over her; he flicked his wand once more, yelled "_Crucio_!" and ten thousand knives tore at her flesh; her world fell apart, replaced by blackness around her and fire in her very bones and she was lost in incomparable agony.

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><p>Draco was being almost dragged out of the bookshop by Blaise, out into the freezing cold high street. He was mildly irritated now, not least because the bookshop was his favourite place in the village. It was quiet; it smelt like paper and must and age, but in a good way, not in the decaying and dying way the Manor always did.<p>

Blaise was being terrible company, which was typical recently and Draco had expected no less. But now he was getting restless. Draco had been carting him around everywhere with him like a small child; a petulant, grumpy child who wasn't happy with anywhere they went. They'd trailed out to the village because Blaise had wanted to get out of the grounds, saying that he found them altogether too stifling now, and Draco had been trying to keep him occupied.

The old wooden door creaked shut as they left the store, and the wind immediately began whipping at their faces. Blaise clutched his cloak around him.

"I can't see why you like that place," he murmured with a shudder. "It's too quiet. Like a graveyard. It's like the place where old books go to die."

"It's peaceful," remarked Draco. "I like it."

"_You_ would," said Blaise.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he inquired touchily.

"Nothing. Forget about it."

"Fine. Well, if you hate the places I like so much, where do you want to go?"

Blaise raised his eyebrows. Draco knew what he wanted to say, where he wanted to go. He'd only bothered to accompany Blaise because he wanted to ensure that once, just for the day, Blaise didn't have a drink and stayed away from both pubs.

"No," Draco said firmly. "Come on; let's go to Zonko's or something."

Blaise sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Look, I know what you're trying to do. It's not your job to babysit me. I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself," he said.

"I beg to differ," replied Draco irritably. "You clearly have no idea how to take care of yourself. I'm babysitting you because I have to. I stayed out of your business in the past when you wanted me to, but not now. I'm your friend and I'm looking out for you. And don't you dare tell me to stop bothering."

Draco felt obliged to help. He wanted to do something, something that could help him prove to himself he wasn't a horrible person like he'd realised at the ball. He had to do something that proved he was worth a damn. Plus, taking care of Blaise helped placate the growing hostility building up in him because of Granger's cold, ignorant manner.

"If you were my friend, you'd let me do what I want. And I want to go and get a drink," said Blaise grimly.

Blaise was too quick to get into a temper now, due to what Draco had dubbed his 'perma-hangover.' He was always irritable and snappish whenever he didn't have a drink in his hand.

"Not today. Just give yourself one day off-"

"I don't want a day off!" yelled Blaise, though his shout was snatched from the attention of the passers-by by the roar of the wind. "Not if having a day off means feeling everything I've been trying to drown out!"

Draco sighed, trying to stay calm.

"Wallowing in self-pity and drowning out your feelings with spirits is hardly the best way to get rid of those feelings, is it?" he replied.

He was so sick of trying to help and no-one taking his advice.

"Maybe, if you just faced your problems and dealt with them instead of bottling them up, you might actually start to get over Daphne!"

He was yelling by the end, and Blaise twitched at the mention of the name he'd been unable to say once in over a month.

"Don't..." he muttered.

"No!" Draco growled.

He had well and truly had it with Blaise and his moods. He knew it was unfair to get so angry with him but he couldn't help it. A month's worth of stored up irritation now came bubbling out of him.

"You may as well say her name, Blaise. _Daphne._"

Blaise shook his head and winced.

_"Daphne:_ the girl who cheated on you, and lied to you for months. _Daphne:_ the bitch who dumped you in front of a room full of people on New Year's Eve_, Daphne_ who-"

Suddenly, Blaise grabbed him and shoved him against the yellow stone wall of the book store, and rough rock scratched his back even though his many layers.

"Stop it," Blaise warned. "Stop it now."

Even with most of the breath knocked out of him, Draco was determined to carry on. Blaise had to see.

"Stop what?" he gasped. "Telling you the truth you've been dodging for weeks? Look at yourself! You aren't like this, Blaise, you aren't confrontational. You're fun and friendly and a laugh, not some moody bastard who spends all his time moping! You need to start dealing with all your problems, or they'll kill you. Either that or the alcohol will."

"I don't drink that much," snarled Blaise. "Don't be such a drama queen."

"You have a problem!" Draco cried, shrugging off Blaise's grip on his shoulders and standing up straight. "Accept it! You're always drinking, always drunk... when was the last time you turned up to a lesson fully sober?"

Blaise said nothing. Draco knew he wouldn't honestly know. It was just lucky that he had always been quiet and overlooked in classes, or else he'd have been expelled by now for drinking during school hours.

"I can't stand around anymore and watch you kill yourself. Drink if you like, but you can do it without me," he hissed.

Draco stormed off in the general direction of the castle without saying anything more, leaving Blaise stood alone by the bookshop. Now, with the adrenaline from the fight surging through his veins, Draco did not regret anything he had said. Perhaps he would later.

When he'd left Blaise a considerable distance behind him, his pace slowed. He hoped their row would become some kind of wake-up call for his friend. While he could understand that he was still feeling down, his moping had gone on for far too long.

After another minute or so of walking, Draco had almost reached the edge of the village. He was approaching Gladrag's when he stopped to check his reflection in a shop window.

His hair was sticking out all over the place - he must have been running his hands through it without realising. The ghostly image of himself in the glass looked back at him with a paler pallor than normal and there were large, dark circles under his eyes from many recent nights spent staying awake thinking about Blaise or Granger.

Granger. He just needed to forget about her. Not only was she totally unobtainable, but he also didn't want to end up like Blaise. That wasn't to say he had decided to never have an emotional relationship with anyone- just not with her. She'd proved already that she didn't want him – not like he wanted her – and she was flighty, and too damn nice to ever have anything to do with him. He needed to take the advice he'd given to Blaise and just move on before things got bad.

Startled out of his thoughts by a bird call, he looked past his own reflection and into the shop as his eyes refocused, and much to his horror she was there. In the shop. Directly in his eyeline. Only, she wasn't alone.

Granger was stood near some shelves and in actual fact he could barely see her because she was concealed behind the frame of this person who had their hands on her shoulders. They were taller than she, and it looked like a boy from what he could see. _Fucking hell, _he thought, _were they kissing? _Had she no shame? Anger boiled and churned inside of him, filling him up.

He noticed with a start that the figure was that irritating boy from before the ball. Draco looked up at the shop sign- it was indeed Dervish and Banges.

In the few seconds it had taken Draco to look away, the situation had changed from one that made him feel jealous and possessive to one that turned his blood to ice. The boy had thrown her onto the floor, and he saw her head thump against the wood, hard.

_Why wasn't she fighting back or screaming,_ thought Draco desperately? Where was her wand? He was rooted to the spot, frozen and helpless, watching Granger on the floor as though it was some strange kind of play.

For a brief moment, Draco thought he saw her eyes flit to the window where he stood, but then she looked away, and he caught a glimpse of her opening her mouth to scream but then the boy – who looked different to the last time Draco had seen him; he looked more evil, more malevolent, less like the cheeky teenager her remembered – raised his wand, said something he didn't hear and Granger started writhing and twitching on the floor, unmistakeably yielding to the terror of the Cruciatus Curse.

She did scream then. Draco could hear it through the glass.

It was the sound that jolted him out of his terrified, panicked state; one shrill, high, unbroken note of unequivocal and utter agony and it shocked him into realising what he was witnessing. The sound was never ending and it made him want to crawl into a ball and die - she was in so much pain…

Within a second he'd moved, had wrenched open the door and burst inside the shop, but not before the boy had cast another spell, the likes of which Draco had never seen before. Granger was levitating high above the ground and began to shudder and shake, before twisting into grotesque shapes she should never have been able to manage. Slashes opened up all over her flesh and blood seemed to gush from all the wounds in a never ending river of red. Her scream still came from her mouth as she curled over on herself again and again, her head whipping from side to side in such a horrific manner that Draco's stomach began to churn.

He felt his hand on his wand before he knew he'd grabbed it, but the boy hadn't noticed his entrance. He was laughing but Draco saw his blank eyes, pale complexion and all the weight he'd lost and knew instantly he was under the Imperius curse. He'd seen it before.

In the split second while Draco paused to think what to do, the boy raised his hand and flicked his wand so that Granger crashed to the ground, then through his laughter yelled "_Crucio_!" and once more Granger was twisting and shaking and screaming… Her eyes were open but were blank and unseeing, and her screams were howls now, howls of animalistic and primal pain…

"_Stupefy_!" cried Draco, his wand pointing straight at the boy's head, and he flew backwards and crashed against a shelf which tumbled on top of him, showering him with Sneakoscopes and crystal balls that shattered as they fell around him.

He threw his wand behind him, not caring where it landed, and ran and knelt at Granger's side, all resentment directed towards her over the past few days entirely forgotten.

There was just silence now in the absence of her screams. She was lying perfectly still, face up on the floor, and he could see a trickle of blood coming out of her ear and oozing onto the wood. Yet more blood pooled around her in a sticky puddle that began to creep up the edge of Draco's robes.

"Granger?" he muttered.

She didn't make any indication that she could hear him; not a flutter of her eyelid or an attempt at a reply. This was bad.

"Granger?" He could hear the strangled desperation in his own voice.

She wasn't responding to his words, she wasn't opening her eyes; she didn't look like she was even breathing. What was the second spell had that bastard had cast on her? What had it done?

"Hermione! Look at me!"

He couldn't help himself. He was bent over her, clutching her, shaking her. His heart felt like it was threatening to shatter into a thousand pieces like the fragments of glass that lay all around him. Was she dead? She couldn't be dead…

"_Hermione_! Move! Please, just do something!" he cried.

But she didn't. In blind panic, he flew out of the shop, screaming at the nearest people he could see to fetch someone from the castle or get help because a student had been attacked; confusion, shock, pure horror dawned on faces of students and villagers alike as they realised that the one place where they had thought they were safe had been penetrated, finally, and something bad had happened.

So many people outside… why had nobody else been around to help her? Why had she been alone?

Draco felt fear constrict in his chest, seizing his heart and chilling his blood in his veins. The war was drawing closer and closer with every day... how long would it be now until the finale?

He couldn't dwell on it anymore before he was back by her side, pausing only to kick the boy who had caused it all sharply in the head to ensure he stayed unconscious. At the minute, he didn't think he'd mind if he had killed him. And then he stumbled towards Hermione, prodding her and shaking her again, begging and pleading for her to do something, but still she remained immobile, pale, and lifeless.

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><p><strong>As always, reviews were and are heartily appreciated. <strong>


	25. Waiting

**A/N - Hola amigos! Well, guess where I am? Sunny, sunny Menorca, a delightful change from rainy English summers. And still I upload for you... dedicated much? **

**Well, anyway, you guys know I love you and I love you so much I can't even contain myself because we passed 200 reviews recently... YAY! So without further ado, I'll see you again next week and by then I'll be back in England... that is if I don't kill myself before then.**

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><p>By the time Madam Rosmerta and a few of the villagers entered the shop to take Hermione to the castle, Draco had stopped shouting and had given up trying to wake her. She wasn't responding so instead he just grabbed her icy, blood-streaked hand in both of his and squeezed it tight. He didn't know why. He just wanted to touch her.<p>

Madam Rosmerta tried to pull him gently away from Granger when she came in but he shot her a dangerous glare so she let him go. Two burly wizards, one bald and one with tattoos all over his arms, lifted Hermione carefully from the floor but still Draco wouldn't let her go. A third wizard placed a light hand on his shoulder.

"Let go of her hand, eh boy?"

Draco turned to give him another death stare but was startled by how much the man looked like Dumbledore. He had the same twinkling blue eyes, which were now gazing persuasively at him.

"I'm not leaving her," he said calmly to the man, as though it was something obvious yet he didn't even know himself why he felt so desperate to stay by her.

"You don't have to," he replied. "Just let go of her hand and we can get your girl to the school quicker."

Draco didn't bother to correct him. As long as they thought he was her boyfriend, perhaps they wouldn't make him leave her.

Reluctantly, he released his hold on her. The Dumbledore man nodded and then held out both their wands which Draco had forgotten he'd discarded.

"Which one's yours?"

Draco took the hawthorn one from the man's grip.

"I'll see to it she gets hers," said the Dumbledore lookalike.

He turned around to see the burlier wizards lifting Granger's tiny, delicate frame out of the door, and he hurried to her side so he could stay close.

He'd calmed down a bit after his initial terrified frenzy. People had gathered outside the building, drawn by his shouts but too scared to go inside themselves, huddled in groups and muttering to each other, all the while wasting precious time as Granger's life trickled slowly away as the seconds passed. But as far as he was concerned, it may as well have been just him and her, the last two people on the Earth. If he'd ignored the blossoming pool of her blood all around her, she'd looked so peaceful. Perfect, actually. Her face was no longer contorted with pain and she looked utterly relaxed. How had he never noticed how beautiful she was before?

Seeing her so unresponsive should have made him feel worse, maybe more scared, but somehow it had calmed him. There was something soothing about being so close to her and knowing there was no possible way that she could reject him since she seemed so oblivious to his existence. Even now, walking beside her limp body which was being supported by the men and listening to the gasps of the villagers as they stared at the blood caking his robes, he felt only an odd sense of peacefulness and clarity. He decided it must be shock.

The walk to the castle seemed to take forever. He wished there was some way they could have gotten her up to the hospital wing quicker- didn't they know how important it was to act as fast as possible? She'd lost so much blood already…

Just as they reached the gates, flanked by the two pillars topped with winged boars that Draco passed every year at the start of term, he looked up to see Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, and Professor Slughorn hurrying towards them all.

"What in heaven's name is going on here?" asked McGonagall, as she hastened towards their group.

"A student's been attacked in the village, Minerva," said the man who looked like Dumbledore. "Archie and Joe have got her here." He jerked his head toward the burly men holding up Granger.

"Who is it?" asked Slughorn, just before he and the other members of staff came to a halt halfway up the path to the school.

The three of them stared at Granger, cradled by the men, for a second or two. Draco had never seen McGonagall lost for words, but she appeared to be now.

"Hermione!" said Hagrid gruffly, scooping her out of the arms of the men and into his. His little black eyes began to fill with tears.

"Thank you, Aberforth," choked McGonagall to the Dumbledore man.

"Thank the boy," he said curtly. "He was the one who found her."

The two Professors' eyes flicked to him for the first time since their arrival. Hagrid stared only at Granger. His crying was becoming louder by the second.

"Well we'll have to cancel all future trips," McGonagall said crisply, her stern eyes still boring into him. "It's not safe any longer. Hagrid, take Granger to the hospital wing. Be as quick as you can. Horace, inform the students in the village that they must return to the castle immediately."

As Slughorn tottered out of the gates, Hagrid strode off with Hermione and Draco automatically made a move to follow her, but McGonagall held out a hand to stop him.

"You had better come with me, Malfoy," she said, her voice grave.

"But I want to go with Granger," he said, almost pleadingly.

"I'm afraid that's not up to you," she replied and then laid a hand on his back to steer him.

The only thing Draco said during the excruciatingly long walk to her office was: "I didn't do it." He'd blurted it out when they'd passed through the front doors, assuming she was taking him away because she thought it was he who'd attacked Granger. True, it was suspicious that he'd been with her, and the last time there'd been an attack in Hogsmeade it had been because of him, but how could they think it was him now? Hadn't he defected? Didn't she realise how unbearable it was for him currently to be away from Granger? But of course, McGonagall didn't know about that.

He just wanted to get his expulsion over with quickly if that was the case so he could go to the Hospital Wing once before he left.

Finally, they reached the Professor's office. The room was sparse, with little furniture other than a desk, a few chairs and a fireplace.

"Have a seat please," she said briskly when they entered.

"It wasn't me… I didn't hurt her," he said again, staying stood up.

McGonagall ignored him, swept across the room and settled herself at a chair behind her own desk. "Please sit down. We must discuss-"

"_It wasn't me!_" Draco shouted, his words ringing out and bouncing off the bare stone walls.

"Calm yourself, Malfoy! I believe you- now sit down," she demanded.

Feeling rather awkward for screaming at her for no reason, Draco did as instructed and sat in a wooden chair in front of her desk. She scrutinised him over the top of her glasses. He felt rather as though her were her prey, and she was sizing him up for a meal.

"Have a biscuit, Malfoy."

Draco was stunned for a second.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Have a biscuit," she said, taking hold of, then holding out to him, a tartan tin on top of her desk that he could see were full of ginger biscuits.

He took one but didn't eat it. He was aware that some of Granger's blood was stuck under his fingernails and there were spots of it on his pale flesh.

"Now, I need you to tell me who _did _attack Miss Granger," she said.

"It was the shop boy from Dervish and Banges. Only, it wasn't really him. He was Imperiused, Professor."

"You're certain?"

"Yes. I could see it in his eyes. I've seen it before."

McGonagall nodded and then looked away. She started rifling through a stack of papers on the desktop.

"I don't understand how they could have known for certain to place an Imperiused guard in Hogsmeade…" she muttered, apparently to herself. "We'd tried so hard to prevent confirmation of her presence here… Monitoring outgoing and ingoing letters, placing undercover Order members in the village… Who could have told the Death Eaters? Who knew?"

Draco almost didn't register her mumbling, he was so desperate to get to the hospital wing. Then all of a sudden a chilling thought hit him like a bucketful of ice-water and stopped his fidgeting.

"Theodore Nott's father knew."

McGonagall's head whipped up.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nott's father… he's a Death Eater… He knew that Granger was at school," he said slowly, trying not to feel sick. "She and Nott were… somewhat involved… and his father found out over the Christmas holidays."

"Are you quite sure?" asked McGonagall earnestly. "You're certain?"

"Yes."

Again, McGonagall nodded. "Thank you for bringing that to my attention. Now, to the real matter at hand. What exactly happened?"

Draco swallowed. "I was walking back to school and I was looking through the window –just by chance- and I saw her, Granger, with the boy. At first, I thought they were kissing because he was stood in front of her, and then-"

He stopped. He couldn't think about her being attacked all over again. It stung; it was almost physically painful in the way that the memory seemed to grab onto and cling at his insides. But he had to. It might help if they knew all they could about the attack.

"Then he threw her on the floor and Cruciated her. Twice. And he put another curse on her, but I've never seen it before… that's why there was all the blood. I was sort of frozen for a while, but then I ran into the shop, Stupefied him, then ran out and told someone to send for help."

Without even noticing it, he'd crushed the ginger biscuit into crumbs that now covered his clothes. McGonagall had listened in silence, and after a second where she paused, silent and still, she took off her spectacles and polished them on her robes before replacing them.

"Very well. Thank you for your help, Malfoy. You will receive fifty house points for your actions."

He nodded. He didn't care about the house points.

"Now, I have owls to send. I suggest you go back to your dormitory and clean yourself up," she said dismissively.

He stood up.

"Can I not go and see Granger?"

She hesitated.

"I'm not sure that's wise."

"Please," Draco begged. He heard his voice crack and the Professor's gaze seemed to soften. "Can I not just go and see her?"

"You'll have to see if Madam Pomfrey will allow it, but that's the best I can do," she conceded.

Draco nodded his thanks then set off for the hospital wing.

Would Granger be ok? He didn't know how extensive her injuries were but he'd seen enough to know that she had lost more than too much blood. Would her injuries prove too much even for magic to help her?

Ten minutes later, he'd arrived. He burst through the doors and saw her instantly, the sole occupant of the room, lying motionless in a bed not too far away. Madam Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen. Within seconds, he'd crossed the room and sat himself down on the visitors chair next to her. He didn't dare grab her hand now – it didn't feel right – but he sat forward and leant his elbows on her mattress, pressing his hands to his temples. Just being near her was enough for now.

After he'd been sat there for a while, Madam Pomfrey came scurrying in. She started when she saw him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked sharply. "You need to leave. I've only just been able to convince Hagrid to go."

"Professor McGonagall said I could visit her," Draco lied, gesturing to Hermione. "I'm not doing any harm. Just let me stay."

Her mouth set in a hard line, but she jerked her head in what he assumed was a nod.

"Is she going to be alright?" he asked softly, gazing at her pale face.

"I'm not sure yet. She's stopped bleeding but she isn't out of the woods. You never can tell with torture victims whether there's any permanent brain damage until they wake up. The pain and the stress of the incident can be very damaging. At the very least, she'll have some minor temporary limb damage, bruises and aches. Were you there when it happened?" she asked, eyeing the blood on his robes.

"Yes," he confirmed.

"Was she Cruciated?"

"Twice."

The matron winced. "That doesn't explain the blood though."

"He cast another spell on her," he murmured. "It sort of levitated her up of the ground and cut her all over, and blood was pouring out and she was shaking and twisting into all sorts of terrible shapes… It was…"

Draco couldn't even describe it with words. It was too horrific. It hurt just to remember.

"That's a new one," Madam Pomfrey muttered, and Draco felt his guts twist like there was a knife in them.

If she didn't know of the spell, how would she know its effects? How would she know how to fix it? _She wouldn't,_ said a dark little voice in his head.

"Can't say I've ever heard of that one before. All I've been able to do for her for now is give her some potion for the pain and hope that she'll stay unconscious for a little while. When she wakes up, it's going to hurt."

"Will she wake up soon?" he asked.

"I don't really know." Her words were met only with his silence. "If she doesn't within the next few days we'll have to send her off to St Mungo's. Here," she said digging out a vial of something from the pocket in the front of her robes, "if you were there you'll probably have some kind of shock. You should drink this."

She pressed it into his palm and then swept into her office, leaving Draco alone with Hermione.

She would be alright. She had to be. He couldn't stand the thought of anything otherwise. It was unbearable and unimaginable. He drank the vial of potion and slowly the cool calm disappeared from him, leaving him feeling panicked and scared. It pained him to think of her not waking up, but he decided to stop questioning why. His feelings had been unavoidable from the second he'd stupefied that boy.

A strand of her hair fluttered into her eyes as a breeze drifted in through the open window and he reached across and impulsively brushed it out of her face. Her skin was so soft and clear of her blood now. Last time he'd been so close to her face, she'd been completely and entirely his, if only for a few seconds.

All of a sudden, he heard a door bang open behind him. He leapt back into his chair and turned around to see Ginny Weasley come running into the room, looking utterly aghast. She didn't seem to register his presence.

"Oh Hermione!"

She practically hurled herself onto the bed and clutched Hermione in a tight hug.

"This is all my fault," he heard her mutter.

She at last took a step back and then she looked around, probably for a chair, and noticed him sat down. Instantly, her eyes flashed with fury; she scowled and then before he knew what was happening, she launched herself on him, clawing at him with sharp nails and wailing like a banshee as her red hair fluttered behind her like a sail.

"What did you do?" she yelled hysterically as she scratched at him. He tried to pull her off but her sheer wild rage gave an edge. "What did you do to her? I'll kill you, you slimy, disgusting, foul-"

"I didn't do anything!" he growled at her as he tried to dodge her attacks. "It wasn't me! I _found _her! Get off me, you crazy bitch!"

He pushed against her with all his strength and Ginny was thrown back from him with a look of confusion on her flushed face just as Madam Pomfrey ran out of her office.

"What is going on here?" she barked. "This is a place of healing! We need a calm, quiet atmosphere, so if you're going to scream you will not do it in my ward!" she yelled, quite contradicting her own demands.

Draco remained quiet as Ginny took a step back, her face as red as her hair and her chest still heaving.

"Sorry. Nothing's going on. It's fine now," she said insincerely.

Madam Pomfrey nodded.

"Can I stay?" asked Ginny. The nurse pressed her lips together but said nothing, and instead disappeared into her office.

"I'll take that as a yes then," she said to herself. Then she looked at him, seemingly slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry. For attacking you," she said bad-temperedly. "You have to understand what I thought though-"

"Yeah, I get it," said Draco sourly. When would people stop judging him based on his past? But then again, he probably deserved it.

"Well, it was nice of you to stay with her, but I can take it from here," Ginny said.

He blinked and shook his head.

"Oh, I'm not leaving," he replied.

Ginny looked bemused. "I think you should. I'm her best friend, and you're- well, you're you." She smirked. "I think I have more of a right to be here than you do."

"Oh you do, do you?" he snapped, taking care to stay quiet so he didn't cause another scene. "And where were you when she was being tortured?"

She said nothing.

"Whereas I was nearby, stopped the man who was doing it, raised the alarm and probably saved her life. I certainly think that gives me as much of a right as you to be here. Now you can yell at me, or you can start attacking me again, I don't care. But I'm not leaving."

Ginny stared at him for a few seconds but he held her gaze. He wasn't going to leave Granger and she couldn't make him.

After a second she stomped off and Draco heard her footsteps retreat; he thought she was leaving in an angry rage, but seconds later she was back with a chair in her hands.

"Well if we're both going to stay we may as well sit down," she said begrudgingly, before dropping into the chair and folding her arms.

Quiet overwhelmed them for a little while. Draco was content to just watch Granger and revel in the fact that she wasn't in any obvious pain. Occasionally he heard Ginny sigh but said nothing.

The sun slowly arced across the sky, peeking out behind the grey clouds every so often, but he did not feel the need to move. He'd be happy to stay here forever. It was so nice to be near to her and know she couldn't stop him or walk away. But all afternoon, she did not change. She never moved, her eyes didn't open, her fingers didn't twitch. At some point, Madam Pomfrey arrived with a tray of sandwiches for their lunch but he didn't touch one. He didn't think he could stomach it.

"She's only here because of me," said Ginny, around mid-afternoon.

Draco tore his eyes away from Hermione for a minute and looked up at her, intrigued. She didn't meet his eye.

"I only went to the post office. I left her for ten minutes but it was enough to almost get her killed. I shouldn't have left her."

"You didn't know," he said emotionlessly.

"Still, I should have stayed with her. I told her I would last week but I didn't… it's just lucky you were there when you were."

Lucky. Was that all it came down to really? Luck? It was true. If he'd not come to Hogsmeade today, if he'd stayed in the bookshop, if he hadn't argued with Blaise, if he hadn't stopped to look at his reflection… so many horrific parallel universes opened up to him and he wanted to retch.

"Yeah, I guess," he said hollowly.

More hours passed. McGonagall arrived to tell them that the Imperiused shop boy was no longer under the hold of the curse – Draco's Stunning Spell had seen to that – but he was being interrogated by Aurors. Draco nodded but it brought him no solace. It wouldn't make Granger wake any sooner. It wasn't even the boy's fault in all honesty, but the fault of the side Draco's own father still served. He had never hated his father more.

Madam Pomfrey came out to check Hermione twice but still no change. The sun set, the moon rose, darkness fell around them and candles burst into life all over, but Draco still remained statuesque in his seat. He'd missed dinner but he was barely aware of the pangs of hunger in his stomach. Granger was all that existed for now.

He found himself at some point trying to categorise his feelings for her but quickly discovered there were no words for them. This was not a crush, or a like, or a love, or a want, or a desire. He just felt tied to her, bound by invisible chains, so much so that merely the sight of her in pain almost killed him. For the time being, it was enough that he was aware of that fact. He'd figure it all out later.

At eight p.m., when he and Ginny had been by Granger's side almost all day, Madam Pomfrey emerged once more.

"Come on, visiting hours are over. You've been here all day. Off you go," she said, setting down several bottles of potions on Granger's bedside table.

Beside him, Ginny stood up and readied herself to exit but he sat still. Leave? How could she ask him to leave? How would he be able to return to their empty dorm tonight, all the while wondering whether she had gotten better or worse? Impossible.

"I'm staying," he said resolutely.

"Please don't be difficult. You can come back tomorrow but you really must leave."

Why did nobody seem to understand? He couldn't just go…

"Look," he spat, sick of trying to stay calm, "I can't leave her, alright? I won't. I won't be able to sleep tonight even if I do go because I'll be wondering if she's ok. So you either let me stay here where you can keep an eye on me, or I'll sit outside your door all night and wait for you to let me back in."

He was aware that Ginny was gawking at him, open mouthed, but he ignored her and stared Madam Pomfrey down.

"Fine!" she snapped. "Fine! Apparently nobody cares about health and safety regulations anymore and everybody's set on being difficult!" she cried as she walked back into her office, still muttering angrily to herself.

Draco felt relieved. He looked back at Ginny, who was still glaring at him suspiciously, but now with her mouth closed.

"What are you staring at, Weaselette? Run along," he said.

She didn't reply angrily as he expected, and instead walked away quietly and left the wing.

He sat down and sighed. Two seconds later a pillow and some blankets collided with the side of his head with a soft thump and startled him. He glanced around to see Madam Pomfrey sashaying crossly towards him.

"If you're staying you'll be needing these," she said, before waving at him and screaming, "Up, up, up!" so he leapt out of the chair. Then she waved her wand and it turned into a small camp bed. He thanked her and placed his pillow and blankets onto it.

"You may as well make yourself useful if you're stopping," she said as she poured a glass of purple liquid out of a dusty green bottle on the cabinet. "If she wakes up during the night, you're to make her drink this. It's Dreamless Sleep Potion, and after the ordeal she's had, she'll need it. Can you do that?"

He nodded, to which she bowed her head brusquely then flounced away, but not before he'd stopped her.

"Thank you for letting me stay. I'm sorry I was so aggressive about it," he said, genuinely full of gratitude.

She smiled tightly. "It's alright. I've seen people get much worse when someone they care about is lying in a hospital bed."

She left, not knowing the effect her words had had. _Someone he cared about. _He did care about Hermione. In ways he himself didn't even fully understand. He cared about whether she was hurting, what she thought of him; he cared that she didn't seem to want him. He cared enough to feel compelled to stay by her side. How much did he care though? That was a question for another day.

He stripped out of his blood-stained robes and into his undershirt and boxers but did not sleep. He couldn't. Eventually the candles went out and they were plunged into darkness, with only the silvery light of the moon shifting infrequently out from behind the clouds to light the space. Granger looked good in moonlight. It gave her face a shimmering, ethereal glow so that she looked like something not of this earth.

He spent so much time just staring at her, taking in details of her face he remembered from their few kisses, that when her eyelids fluttered he did not immediately notice. But then they opened, and his grey eyes met the green and his heart leapt.

"Granger?"

Recognition flared in the depths of that emerald sea. It was definitely recognition. But her eyes were bleary, which Draco attributed to the pain killing potion Madam Pomfrey had administered.

More of her began to stir, first her fingers then her whole hand, then her legs and arms, but her movements were sluggish and delayed. She tried to sit up but he stopped her when he saw a spark of pain cross her face.

"Take it easy. Don't do that," he said. "You've been through a lot."

Her mouth opened and she might have been trying to speak but all that came out was a strange, hoarse rasp. However, he saw her mouth the word 'water' and so he poured her a glass from the jug by her bed.

She gulped it down greedily when he handed it to her, splashing some on her chin and bedclothes. It was good to see her doing something other than lying still. Unsteadily, she set the glass down. It nearly slipped through her fingers. She wet her lips with her tongue then tried to speak again.

"Hi," she croaked.

"Hi," he replied.

She didn't seem to have any damage to her brain from what he could tell; she was moving she was speaking and she was finally awake… his entire body flooded with an overwhelming sense of release.

"How are you feeling?"

He knew it was a pathetic question but he just wanted to talk to her. She shook her head. She still seemed to be in a potion induced haze.

"Not good," she managed. "Everywhere hurts."

He nodded.

"Do you remember what happened?"

She nodded too. Her eyes immediately began to brim with tears. He wanted to tell her it was probably Theo's father's fault that she was lying in a hospital bed, because it would be sure to sever any remaining emotional ties she had to him, but it would be selfish and unnecessarily cruel. His own sensitivity shocked even himself. When had he begun to be selfless?

_He should give her the potion,_ he thought.

"Shh," he said in what he hoped was a comforting way. He wasn't good at this. "Don't remember. Madam Pomfrey told me to make you drink this."

He picked up the glass of purple liquid and handed it to her. She took it from him but didn't sip any.

"Why are you here?" she rasped.

He could see her curiosity burning in her watery eyes. Typical. Even when she was in a hospital bed after she'd almost died, she could resist asking questions, or needing to know. Would she remember this tomorrow? Would the Dreamless Sleep coupled with the pain killers wipe her memory of this? Probably. Painkilling potions could be very powerful.

"I don't know," he said simply. "I really don't know. I just… I couldn't leave you."

Her eyes began to glow with something he didn't really understand.

"Now drink up."

Draco watched as Hermione carefully drained the contents of the glass. After only a few seconds her eyelids began to droop as no doubt sleepiness was overcoming her. He leant forwards to take the glass from her hands but she grabbed his arm and pulled him close, so that his forehead was resting on hers. He could barely breathe. She seemed to be trying to fight off the potion.

"I saw someone… at the… the window," she murmured, and he was glad she was so close or else he wouldn't have heard her. "Was… was it you?"

He nodded, watching as her desperate eyes fought to stay open.

"Yes," he whispered.

Then she slightly leaned forward, tilting her head to the left, and lightly brushed her lips against his for the briefest of moments, encapsulating him in the softness of the tender, gentle pressure she was putting on him. Her hand limply reached up to brush through his hair, and against his lips she breathed the words: "Thank you." And then she sank back into her pillows, lost in a world of potions, painkillers and sweet nothingness, leaving him to face the rest of the night confused and alone.

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><p><strong>I'm sorry, I couldn't resist the 'have a biscuit' part because it was one of my favourite McGonagall moments of the series. Draco hearts Hermione, awwwwwwwww. <strong>


	26. Nightmare

**A/N - Almost nothing to say this week except thank you so much for the amazing response to the last chapter. I'm home now, still in post-holiday depression and feeling sad about a bunch of other stuff, but that isn't important. I'll channel the angst into Dramione, haha. **

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><p>Cold grey daylight was barely filtering through the window when Hermione awoke. It was early, much earlier than she normally woke up at weekends, and it took her a second to work out why. Disoriented, she tried to glance around, noticing only the starchy white sheets on top of her when she was hit with a tidal wave of dull pain. Biting down on her hand to stifle a cry, everything came back to her in an instant.<p>

Her head was pounding and every inch of her body was throbbing, as though the skin had been set alight. It felt raw. The ghostly imprint of the Cruciatus curse was clearly designed to outlast the actual duration of the spell.

Despite the persistent pounding in her head, she clumsily strung together a sequence of events: the trip, the boy, the attack, the moment she awoke, the kiss.

_The kiss. _Oh no.

She whipped her head to the right, ignoring the protest from her body, and saw through the dim morning light that there was a sleeping figure on a camp bed next to her, and she didn't need to see the platinum blond hair to know it was Malfoy.

Somehow, she managed to scrape together a hazy, fragmented memory of waking up and seeing him, but he had been blurry and swimming in a pool of silver, something she must have imagined because of the pain. Then he'd given her a potion, and then she'd felt suddenly tired, but totally uninhibited, and so she had kissed him. _Not again,_ she groaned to herself. _Why did this keep happening? _

Groggy and sluggish and still trying not to moan out loud because of the burning all over, she slumped back against her pillows. Why did she let herself do these stupid, stupid things?_ Because there's something in you that really wants them, _remarked a devilish little voice in her head.

Did she want them? It was better not to answer that, even though, as usual, she thought she did know that answer. It was logic. But she couldn't, _didn't_, want him, because it was all too absurd… but deep down, some part of her must. Or else why would such events only occur when there was no rational thought in her head to stop her?

It was more than a small part, perhaps, but definitely not the majority of her. It was wrong, so horrifically wrong, to want him, yet she did. She'd kissed him once because he'd demanded it of her; once because he'd been near to her; and now once because he'd saved her, because he said he'd been unable to leave her… because at that moment she thought he wanted it too. Thinking about those first two times had kept her up at night on more than several occasions.

He must want something with her too. Why else would he respond to her silly, unplanned, un-thought-out advances? Why else would he have stayed by her? But then again, it was Malfoy; his head was difficult to work out at the best of times.

A shooting pain suddenly flared up her leg, and she yelled out before she could stop herself, though she tried to quiet it quickly. She checked to see if Malfoy had stirred- he had not. Good. She didn't think she'd be able to face him any time soon. Though she knew she would have to, like she always had to.

Her shout had attracted some attention, however; Madam Pomfrey scuttled out of her office now, and hurried towards her.

"You're awake," she observed, without any kind of emotion. "Did you wake up in the night?"

"Yes," Hermione croaked, her throat as dry as it had been last night.

"Did he give you the potion?" asked the matron, nodding at Malfoy.

"Yes."

"Good. At least he was mildly useful. How are you feeling? Any muscle spasms, nausea, headaches, joint pain?"

"I just got a shooting pain in my leg. My skin feels like it's on fire. And I do have a headache," she said, reeling off her list of ailments.

Madam Pomfrey pulled a small bottle of red potion out of her robes. "Open up," she said, as she ladled some onto a spoon and poured it into Hermione's mouth.

She drank it; it tasted of nothing, but its effect was instantaneous. All of her pain seemed to float up and out of her body, as though it had been sucked out of her entirely, leaving her with the strange feeling of total weightlessness. Apart from that, now pain-free, she felt nothing but tiredness, and she must have been exhausted because without saying anything else she collapsed back into the bedding and fell to sleep.

* * *

><p><em>Darkness, more intense than any she's ever seen before. Darker than pure black, darker than empty space, darker even than the world in absence of light. It seems to pull her in, enticing her, but she knows she shouldn't go near it. She can't help herself- it's pulling her in with a force like gravity, but a million times stronger. <em>

_And then suddenly: white hot pain, like a thousand boiling needles piercing her skin all over. It's in her eyeballs, her mouth, her hands, her feet. It's inescapable. She wants to tear out her own flesh to stop the pain, or cut her own throat and die, if only she could concentrate on something but the agony. _

_Then the darkness tries to engulf her, and she knows she can't let it happen. She's on her feet, pushing through the pain. Running. Screaming. Falling. Flashes of red and green fly by, nearly blinding her, but she won't let it stop her. She has to stay ahead of the blackness. _

_She trips and falls, but she stumbles back to her feet as tears of pure torture drip down her face. She can feel something closing in behind her, its hot, foul breath brushing the back of her neck and pricking her skin up all over. For no reason, the pain abruptly intensifies and it cripples her. More screaming. _

_She sails through the air, landing on her back. A sickening crunch, a flash of white, red hot pinpricks on her skin. The thing that was chasing her has caught up, but as she turns to look at it before it devours her, she sees only an absolute wall of darkness... _

_Nothing, and then she's elsewhere. The wreckage of a house appears in front of her, smoking slightly, nothing but a mound of debris and rubble and still-burning embers. Ash floats through the air and clings heavily, like a deadly fog. This place smells of death and sings of horrors she hasn't witnessed. _

_Amongst the monochrome shadow of ruin, her eyes notice a deathly pale hand peeking out from beneath the exploded red brick and grey dust. She runs, picking away the wreckage, to reveal a man- her father, his glasses cracked and askew over his lifeless eyes and the left side of his face horrifically burned and singed. He is dead. Something howls animalistically with sheer grief. She realises it is her. _

_The shriek of pain still echoes through the thick and smoggy air when she sees another glimpse of flesh- this time a naked foot. She scrabbles over, removes the debris to reveal a rubble tomb, and therein lies her mother. The mother she thought she had protected. Who she thought she had kept safe. _

_More cries, more body parts, more corpses unveiled amidst the remains of this house. Harry: dead. Ron: dead. Hagrid: dead. Her lungs are going to give out because she's screaming so loud, and then the ground gives way and she falls into nothing. _

* * *

><p>With a gasp, Hermione jerked awake. Her breath came from her in short panicked gasps and she felt a trickle of cold sweat inch down her back. Her hair felt plastered to her forehead and she lifted the back of her hand to her head and held it there as she tried to breathe properly. She realised she was trembling; the dream had been so vivid it had terrified her. A scratchy sensation in the back of her throat led her to believe she'd been screaming out loud.<p>

Sitting up, she looked to her right to see Malfoy sat up on the camp bed, gripping onto the bedside cabinet with one hand and clenching the other; his eyes were closed and screwed up and all the muscles in his arm were tensed, like he was trying to contain some unbearable emotion.

Still panting, she tried to shake off the memory of her nightmare. It hadn't really happened. Everyone was safe. She was safe. It seemed Malfoy hadn't noticed she'd woken up because he hadn't moved.

"It's alright," she mumbled shakily. "I'm awake now. I just had a bad dream."

"You were screaming," Malfoy choked, keeping his eyes closed. "Must have been a pretty bad nightmare."

"It was."

Why did he look so tense? Because of her? Had listening to her been _that_ agonising?

"Are you ok?" she asked tentatively.

He gave a little bark of mirthless laughter and opened his eyes.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that? You're the one in the hospital bed."

"Yes, but… you look awful."

He did. Now that she wasn't preoccupied looking at his posture, which had eased up a little, she could see the black smudges under his eyes, his messy hair as thought he'd been tossing and turning in bed, and his paler than usual colour.

"Thanks," he smiled sarcastically. "It's just… I tried to wake you, but you wouldn't. You were thrashing around and yelling but I couldn't do anything."

He must have felt so powerless. But why had it damaged him so?

"If I was so loud, why didn't Madam Pomfrey come out?"

"She didn't hear."

In the silence that followed, Hermione realised why- she could hear the distant sound of a wizarding wireless and a warbling voice singing along that seemed to belong to the matron. Awkward tension was seeping into the atmosphere between Malfoy and her.

"I thought you'd have left by now," she remarked.

"How could I leave?" he asked her, as though she was stupid for thinking he might have.

She didn't totally understand him. Leaving her was simple. He'd just have to get up and go- he hadn't been forced to stay with her, surely? He made it sound as though it was physically impossible. Was it because she'd kissed him that he hadn't left? Oh, Merlin, too many questions she didn't have the answers to. The whole morning so far had just been confusing in general.

"I'm glad you stayed," she blurted out before she thought about what she'd said.

"Are you?"

"Yes."

She didn't think she'd have been able to face waking up alone in the hospital in the middle of the night. A familiar face, _any _familiar face, would have been welcome. Even his. She shifted uncomfortably in the bed.

"I thought that maybe… maybe after what happened last night…"

He left the sentence hanging. Was he trying to see if she remembered? She paused for a minute to consider her reply.

"I don't know why I did it," she confirmed for him. "I mean, I do. It was the potions. I'm sorry."

The potions. What a perfect excuse to hide behind. Malfoy nodded grimly.

"Of course."

The same tension. It was like he knew she was hiding something, and he wished she wasn't. As though he was hiding something too. They were both as bad as each other.

"Did you stay all day yesterday?" she asked.

"Yes. I came up here as soon as I could. I would have been here straight away but McGonagall cornered me wanting to know what happened. I mean… after I saw it, saw you… I had to know when you'd wake up. _If_ you'd wake up."

She absorbed this solemnly.

"Thank you, again. For saving me." Because of course, she'd already thanked him twice: once with her words and once with her kiss.

"It was just a lucky chance I was there. It wasn't anything special," Malfoy said, attempting his usual snide tone, but it was obviously forced.

"It was to me. I'd be dead or worse if it wasn't for you."

She essentially owed him her life. She'd be indebted to him eternally- how would she ever be able to get out of that kind of predicament?

"Did you eat at all yesterday?" she asked politely.

"No. But it doesn't matter. I'm not hungry," Malfoy replied, just as his stomach growled and gave him away.

"Go and get something to eat," Hermione said firmly. He looked doubtful. "I'm hardly going to go anywhere while you're gone. Go and eat."

He nodded obligingly and stood up. Slipping his bloody robes on over his undershirt and boxers, he turned and silently sloped across the room. She watched him leave, staring at his back as he walked. His walk had changed, she noticed for the first time. He didn't swagger, or cockily strut anymore. His gait was slow, listless, as though he had no idea where he was going so had no purpose to his movements. It was strange. She had come to expect certain things from him, and now, one by one, they were disappearing. Perhaps he, like she, was losing touch with himself.

Just when she thought she could breathe again and begin to think her way through things properly as his figure disappeared out of the ward doors, Ginny strode in.

"You're awake!" she cried when she saw Hermione staring at her.

Her face split into a wide grin and her eyes lit up, and she broke into a run. Seconds later, Hermione was trapped in her hold, her face buried in Ginny's hair.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Ginny said, her voice muffled by their embrace. "I left you and I shouldn't have…. I left you and you got hurt… it's my fault."

"Ginny," said Hermione, roughly grabbing her friend by the shoulders and despite her current weakness managing to pull her away, "this is not your fault. You didn't know what was going to happen to me, ok? And even if you had come with me, I probably still would have been attacked, except you'd be in a hospital bed next to me. Or in a morgue. Alright? I don't blame you. It's not your fault."

"But-"

"No, Ginny. Leave it."

She nodded then sat somewhat awkwardly on the camp bed Malfoy had just vacated.

"I can't believe you're spending your Valentine's Day cooped up in here," Ginny said.

It was Valentine's Day? She'd forgotten in all the commotion.

"How are you feeling?"

Apparently that was the question on everybody's lips today. How was she? How did they think she was? She was lying in a hospital bed having been tortured to within an inch of her life and she'd just woken from a horrific nightmare. She was fucking awful.

"I'm pretty good," she lied, swallowing anger and trying to keep things light. "A few aches and pains, but apart from that I'm ok."

"I'm so glad. When I heard yesterday… I- I didn't know what to think. Then you were still unconscious when I got here and, well. You can imagine what I thought then."

Hermione nodded and looked away. She felt so drained and emotionally destroyed by the day and it was barely eleven in the morning.

"Did Malfoy stay all night?" said Ginny, with typical bluntness. Her face creased up in what was probably disapproval.

"He did," said Hermione carefully, picking a spot in mid-air just to Ginny's right and watching the dust particles dance and float around.

Ginny nodded and sniffed.

"He was pretty adamant that he wasn't going to leave you when Pomfrey tried to kick him out yesterday, you know… What's going on with you two?" she asked disdainfully. "Why did he stay? Are you two friends or something? Or are you being civil, or do you still hate each other? What?"

_That was a loaded question, _thought Hermione. What were they? She had absolutely no idea. They were dorm-mates. They were partners. They were natural born enemies. They were two people who had kissed multiple times. These were the facts. But the actual summation of their odd relationship was something even Hermione could not easily define.

"Civil, I suppose. Yes. We're civil."

But it went so far beyond that. It was so much more than civil for them to kiss, more than civil for him to sleep by her side while she was unconscious. More than civil to harbour niggling feelings about him. She was lying to herself, and to Ginny. But for now, she'd settle for it.

There was a silence then, a disapproving, overbearing silence that Hermione couldn't stand because Ginny was never silent. So she invited conversation.

"Have I missed anything while I've been gone?"

"Oh, you missed quite the scandal this morning," said Ginny conspiratorially.

Hermione was glad she'd suddenly gone back to being her usual, if slightly annoying, gossipy self.

"It actually kind of broke the ice after everyone was so depressed because of what happened to you. The whole castle is pretty tense. But you'll never guess what Dean Thomas has been doing. Or should I say _who _he's been doing. Apparently, over the summer he went from _me _to Daphne Greengrass. From Slytherin." Ginny shuddered. "They got caught having it off at the top of the Astronomy Tower last night by Lavender Brown, so of course everyone knew by morning. But there was a huge row over it in the common room just after I woke up, so now no-one's speaking to either of them. Except Seamus, of course. He's sticking with Dean."

Ginny had quite a triumphant and smug smile on her face.

"Me, to Daphne Greengrass. Ugh."

Even after facing a similar situation herself when she'd been with Theo, she didn't understand it. Why would the whole school turn their backs on two students because of who they'd chosen to be with? What was it to them? Even she had had people who would still talk to her- Neville and Luna for example. Why was it worse for Dean?

Ginny continued to ramble on about what Hermione had missed while she'd been in hospital, generally pointless little things she didn't care about: about how everything was so tense now; how everyone had been so shocked; and even after the gossip about Daphne and Dean had spread things were still edgy. As usual, Hermione didn't listen. Instead, she allowed the conversation to wash over her as always, basking in the delicious monotony of it. Ginny, irritating as she could be and fickle as she was, was a constant in her life and always stayed the same person. Right now, that was all she needed.

She needed Ginny because she needed something normal to cling onto now everything was changing. While she was changing. It seemed inevitable now that she would morph into someone else entirely, someone unrecognisable in the future as the once-predictable good girl Hermione Granger. It was as unavoidable as weight, dragging her down into a situation she desperately didn't want to be in.

The biggest change had manifested itself in the form of her actions last night with the boy who had left the room but was never far from her mind nowadays. Why was it that whenever she felt uninhibited, she reached out to him, touching him or kissing him?

She did know why. She just tried to ignore that she did.

Ginny stayed for a short while longer, eating sandwiches Madam Pomfrey brought them with Hermione as a quick lunch, before leaving with some mundane excuse that Hermione did not take in. At last, for the first time since she had woken up, she was alone.

In her solitude, she became starkly aware of her pains as they gradually returned while the potion wore off. All her limbs felt stiff, and she lifted up the sheets and her hospital pyjamas to see bruises spreading out across the surface of her entire body, blooming like black and yellow flowers all over her pale legs and torso.

She glanced over her arms; the bruises covered them too. Her eyes lingered at her wrists for a moment and they looked oddly bare. Then she realised; they'd taken Theo's bracelet off her. She still hadn't taken it off for whatever reason, but actually, she was glad it was gone now. Theo was her past.

If Hermione moved at all, she felt the lasting impression of the curse, the imprint of it staining her as a finger-mark on a photograph. She hurt, she was tired, and she was confused.

* * *

><p>Draco barely remembered having eaten, had his shower and getting changed, but he must have done it because he wasn't covered in Granger's blood anymore and he was wearing clean clothes. It appeared he had left his mind at the hospital wing with Granger because she had been the only thing he could think of while he'd been away from her, and now he was hastily walking back to see her again. This thing he had for her was getting dangerously obsessive.<p>

As he rounded the final corner before the entrance to the ward, he felt intense relief flood him at almost being at Granger's side, but it was quickly replaced by bitter resentment when he spotted a familiar figure ahead of him with one hand on the wooden doors.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Draco demanded.

Theo's hand dropped from the door and he turned back to look at him. "Where do you think I'm going? To see Hermione. I have to go and see her, Draco, and don't you dare say a word about it."

He tried to storm inside but Draco ran up to him and grabbed him by the shoulder. "I'll say more than a word, Theo. You aren't going anywhere near her."

Draco pulled Theo roughly away from the door and stood in front of it like a barrier. He was not going to let Theo anywhere near Granger when it was probably his dad's fault that Granger was in there in the first place… no, scratch that, it was Theo's fault because he'd told his dad. Draco felt anger begin to fill him up.

"For Merlin's sake Draco, how are you not over this yet?" said Theo with an exasperated sigh. "I'll do what I like; you don't get a say in my love life."

Draco rolled his eyes. She was so much more involved in Draco's love life than Theo's anyway, so he could piss off. "This isn't about you and Granger anymore, you idiot. Besides, you broke up with her, so it's not like she'll even want to see you. She was pretty cut up about it."

"It doesn't matter, I want to see her," said Theo sadly. "I didn't want to break up with her. I still like her, I like her a lot. It was all because of my dad-"

"Oh yeah," Draco cut across sharply. "Speaking of him, that's another reason why I'm not letting you into that room."

Theo pushed himself into Draco, knocking him backwards slightly. "What are you talking about?"

"Your fucking father is probably the reason why she's in there in the first place!"

There was a stunned silence and Theo's face fell.

"What? He wasn't in the village, was he?"

"No, but the Death Eaters Imperiused some stupid shop boy to attack her, probably under your father's instruction because you fed him all the fucking information! No-one was supposed to know she was here, for her own safety. And then you told your dad – your _Death Eater_ dad - that one of the Golden Trio was at Hogwarts. What possessed you to think that that was in any way a good idea?" Draco said, his voice becoming a shout.

"I… I didn't think about that… he just wanted to know why I'd snuck out on him on Christmas Eve so I told him about her-"

"You could have lied!" Draco snapped. "And now she's in there because she's been tortured half to death and it's all your fault for telling your dad!"

"Fuck," muttered Theo, his face becoming pale. He rubbed his temples. "He said she'd get what was coming to her but I thought it was just an idle threat. I swear I didn't think he'd really do anything. I have to go in now… I have to tell her how sorry I am-"

"I don't think so," spat Draco, holding him back from the doors once more. "You should go back to the dungeons, Theo, and stay there. And you should probably stay away from her from now on. She won't need reminding that you're responsible for her getting hurt twice now."

Theo physically winced as Draco's dig about the way he'd dumped Granger hit home. Draco watched with thinly veiled triumph as Theo shrank back from the doors a little, and so he pushed one open, intending to return to Granger like he'd planned.

"Wait- where are you going?" Theo asked.

"Inside."

"Well how come _you _can go in and I can't?" he moaned. "You've hurt her too – you pinned her to a wall by her neck, for crying out loud! What gives you the right to go in there and see her?"

Draco was sick of explaining this now. He had the right to see Granger because he spent damn near most of his time with her; because he'd found her and raised the alarm and saved her; because as selfish as it was, he _had _to see her, or else he didn't know what he'd do. Theo couldn't know that though. No-one could; he must keep it a secret.

"It doesn't matter why. I just have to. McGonagall told me to check on her," he added when Theo narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Regardless, I'm going in and you have to stay away."

"You don't even like her."

It sounded a little like a question instead of a statement.

"Why does it matter to you whether she gets upset to see me or not? Why do you care?" pushed Theo.

_Because seeing her in distress hurt him so much more than he could explain._

"Go back to the common room, Theo," Draco said warningly.

Theo held his dangerous gaze for a moment or two more then stalked off down the corridor. At the end, he looked back at Draco like he was considering something and he was filled with a sense of unease. At last he disappeared. Draco felt that something was not right with Theo and the way he had looked at him, but he'd consider that later. For now, he had to get back to Granger.

* * *

><p>Hermione didn't even realise she'd dozed off again until she snapped awake, and Malfoy was back, sat on the camp bed that was now a chair, having probably been transfigured. From what she could tell, it was late afternoon; the dim winter light was fading fast and sun was setting outside, making the room around them glow orange. Apart from the time, it was almost a mirror of last night; he was staring at her again without seeing and she was surprised to find him there.<p>

Malfoy looked cleaner now than when she'd last seen him, and his damp hair suggested he'd been back to the dorm and showered. He'd changed too, because now he was wearing light cotton pants and a blue shirt. And then he blinked and realised she was awake, and their eyes met.

"Why did you stay last night?" she asked from nowhere, as though they'd been midway through a conversation they'd been having for hours.

"I've already told you. I really don't-"

"Yes, you said. '_You don't know._' But you must know somewhere. There must be a reason," she interrupted.

He looked brooding and considerate for a second.

"I honestly don't really understand why. I just know that I felt like I couldn't possibly leave you," he said slowly.

"What do you mean?"

"I felt almost like there was something… something physically stopping me from being able to get up and go. Like leaving was as impossible and unfathomable as if there was simply no door for me to leave by."

From his tone, she knew he was being starkly honest, and for some reason it scared her. When had that begun? He was being more open and vulnerable than he'd ever been before. The implications of his last sentence were terrifying.

"I just couldn't go, not after what happened," he finished.

That confused her. After what happened- the kiss, or the torture? She wasn't sure.

But she didn't let it show. So she nodded.

They spent a few minutes not saying anything. Hermione stared fixedly at anywhere but at Malfoy, trying to ignore the large part of her that was coming close to feeling content with him by her side. Fortunately, Madam Pomfrey came out and saved her from her feelings, providing a momentary distraction from her thoughts.

"Come on you, time for some more pain potion," she said to Hermione, ladling out more red liquid.

She was glad. The bruises had begun to burn again. After she had swallowed, Madam Pomfrey turned to Malfoy and glared at him.

"You're still here. You can't stay tonight as well though, I'm afraid. It's a school night."

Malfoy sighed heavily. "I figured as much."

Pomfrey's eyes softened. "If I could let you stay, I would. But rules are rules, and you've already bent them once."

Hermione didn't know whether she was glad that she'd finally have some privacy or sad and strangely empty to know that he'd have to leave. But at least her pains were gone again. For now.

She didn't like this listlessness and hollowness. She didn't like that it felt like loss, a loss of Malfoy. She didn't want to feel it. She wanted to get back to her dorm, to normality: to be near Malfoy yet safely distant with walls between her bed and his.

"When can I leave?" she asked the matron.

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips.

"Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. We'll see how you are. But I can't make any guarantees."

Relief, sweet relief. Just the one night alone. But it shouldn't have been this damn hard.

"Two minutes, then you need to go," she said, pointing at Malfoy. "She needs an early night."

After she left, one of their allotted two minutes passed by in stillness and hush. Neither of them moved nor spoke, except for when Hermione leant back into her pillows and pulled the sheets up around her. Then he slowly stood up and without so much as a goodbye he began walking across the room. So yesterday he couldn't leave her side and now he could without even a farewell?

About halfway to the doors, he stopped, his back still to her. She looked at him curiously.

"I'm sorry this happened to you. I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner," he said, his voice so quiet it was like he had intended for her not to hear, though she had caught every word.

Then he revolved on the spot just enough to glance back at her.

"I'll bring your schoolwork for you tomorrow."

And then he was gone.


	27. Mistakes

**A/N - S'up guys. My**** life is boring, but this chapter isn't (or at least it shouldn't be!). Now, I will say it for anybody who hadn't twigged by seeing the rating of this fic: _It is rated M for a reason._**

**Mature content features in this chapter... full steam ahead, yes? Oh, and massive thanks to the wonderful MrsBates93 for beta-ing the latter half of this chapter. **

* * *

><p>As he brushed his teeth and stared at his sleepy reflection in the mirror, Draco couldn't help but notice how quiet the dorm was this morning. He'd slept badly last night, as he knew he would. Not having Granger around was a change.<p>

This morning, her red toothbrush stood bone dry and untouched on her side of the sink; there were no damp footprints tracking from the shower cubicle to the door; he couldn't quite smell the lingering scent of her perfume as strong as usual, because she hadn't been around to spray it.

It wasn't as if his daily routine even included her. By the time he rolled out of bed and made his way blearily to the bathroom, she'd generally already showered, dressed and was about to leave for breakfast. But her absence had highlighted for him how much he'd come to want having her round, even for the little things that meant nothing.

God, his newly discovered emotions were making him a sentimental bastard.

With little regret, he left the empty dorm and wandered slowly down to breakfast, dragging his feet. He wanted to head up to the hospital wing to see Granger, if only to catch a glimpse of her for a second, but he refused to let himself go.

The morning passed by in a haze. The only thing he was actually aware of was how strangled he felt wherever he went, and somehow, he connected that it was not to do with how much he missed Granger. The school was quieter than it should have been, as though everyone was on edge. But apart from that, he didn't take in his surroundings.

Instinct kept him maintaining some sense of routine – eat, walk to lesson, take notes, leave lesson, repeat the whole thing again – but he didn't feel quite right. He couldn't concentrate.

His thoughts kept wandering up to the hospital wing and to Granger, and his lack of attention led to his cauldron exploding in Potions and showering the whole class in Wit-Sharpening Potion. Though incomplete, the droplets that had splashed on him did give him some clarity. He'd have to visit Granger later anyway, to deliver the day's work, so why was he bothering to daydream over her? Then it wore off and he was back in a mess.

By lunch, he didn't know what to do with himself. After the disaster that had been Potions he was about ready to just run up to the hospital wing and scream at her for making him so crazy, and added to that, he noticed Theo look up at him a few times from where he was sat, alone, on the table, looking at him like he had at the end of the corridor yesterday. It was like he was searching for something in Draco. After their argument , he decided he really would have to be careful around Theo.

Draco was rescued from his madness when Blaise sloped over and sat down on the opposite side of the table.

"Alright?" he said lightly, as though nothing was wrong with them.

Draco simply stared at him with cold eyes. What did he want now?

"Don't give me that look, ferret," Blaise said with a shake of his head as he heaped potatoes onto his plate. "Girls are the ones who give each other bitchy stares. If you've got a problem with me sitting here just say something."

Still, Draco said nothing. He looked away and continued eating his steak and kidney pie instead. Seconds later there was a clattering of cutlery and he looked up to see that Blaise had put his knife and fork down and was watching him carefully.

"Will you just say something, you ignorant prick?"

Provoked into a response, Draco chewed thoughtfully for a second.

"You seem different today," he said simply.

"Well, I shouldn't do. I'm still as handsome as ever," Blaise smirked. "Although, I did do something different with my hair this morning. I'm glad you noticed."

And just like that, Draco felt inclined to be less cold to Blaise. He was being more like himself than he had done in a long while- he was being jokey and fun. But of course, he didn't let his happiness show.

"Decided to stop the pity party then, have we?" he asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

"No," Blaise answered quite cheerfully. "It's still a fully-fledged raging celebration, just a sober one. Even though they're no fun."

He began tucking into his food with gusto. Draco had missed this side of Blaise.

"You ditched the whiskey then?"

"I pretty much had to after you left me in Hogsmeade and ran off in a tantrum. After all, you need me, Draco. Without me your life would be utter shit."

Despite himself, Draco smiled. "Sure. It's not like I'd have any less problems or anything without you to babysit."

They lapsed into comfortable quiet while they ate.

"So you've been missing for a few days. Have you heard the latest news?" inquired Blaise. "Somehow, someone else found out about Daphne and Dean and now the whole school knows."

He felt slightly uncomfortable now. Blaise had said it casually enough, and had even dropped Daphne's name without so much as flinching which was quite an achievement, but Draco would be a fool to think Blaise was no longer hurting about it. Still, at least he was making some attempt to cope, and he was just grateful for that.

"No, I hadn't heard. Are you ok?" he said.

"Not particularly. But I'll get over it. I have to, right?" said Blaise in a calm enough tone, though his hands were quivering slightly. "Anyway, where were you that you missed out on all the excitement over it?"

"I was busy," he said vaguely.

"Busy with what?"

"Nothing much. Just busy. Head Boy stuff, you know."

Blaise's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Draco couldn't tell him where he'd been. Blaise would think too much of it and he'd never let it go. No, the only people who could know were him, the matron, Weasley and Granger herself.

"Speaking of Head Boy, your little Mudblood colleague has ruined the rest of the year for us all," said Blaise, his eyes widening. "They've banned all Hogsmeade trips now, so we're all trapped in this bloody castle like rats. All because she was stupid enough to get herself attacked. You probably already knew that though, right?"

"Yeah, I knew," said Draco, trying not get angry at his friend because he wouldn't understand. Granger hadn't been hurt because of her own stupidity. She'd been near enough hunted.

The rest of the day passed without incident. Draco forced his mind onto his schoolwork and managed not to blow up anything else, though he was hardly back to his usual self. At last, when classes were over for the day, he was free to give into his urge to go and see Granger. But he waited, purposely delaying his visit as long as possible to test how long he would last. He barely made it past dinner.

It was already dark by the time he arrived at the place that had occupied his mind all day, and the second he saw her it was like he had got his fix of some kind of drug; her presence soothed and calmed him as it had done on occasions before, to his resentment, but yet he couldn't have cared less. He felt peaceful now he had finally got what he'd wanted.

Slowly, he ambled towards her. She was reading what looked like a very boring book on healing plants and their uses in potions, and she looked up when she heard his steps.

"Finally! I've been waiting all day for you!" she said with a slight smile.

_Damn her. _Why did she have to say _those_ words? Why? Merlin, she was mind-fucking him. Did she want him? Did she not? She seemed to when she kissed him but then she'd ignore it or pretend that nothing happened. And he shouldn't want her either. He shouldn't fucking want her. She was a Mudblood goddamn it – how had he forgotten that? He wasn't allowed to want her.

He must have stayed quiet for too long.

"I've been bored out of my mind since I woke up. Madam Pomfrey's book selection leaves a lot to be desired. Do you have my schoolwork?" she asked cautiously, closing the tome and placing it on the cabinet next to her water jug.

Draco was by the side of her bed now. The calmness had disappeared somewhere between when she had first spoken and when she had finished and a prickling anger was creeping up on him. He took the work out of his bag and dumped it unceremoniously on top of her sheets. She glanced at him uneasily.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

He wouldn't stay very long, he decided. He didn't need her. Or at the very least, he didn't _want _to need her.

Madam Pomfrey suddenly came scurrying in and silently began examining Granger, prodding her and starching out various limbs.

"Am I allowed to leave tonight?" she asked the matron as she messed about with her left arm.

For a while, it was as though she hadn't heard; she continued to work wordlessly over Hermione, looking for something Draco didn't know. Then, she spoke.

"Hmm," she murmured, looking unsure. "I don't know. You haven't fully recovered. You're still in pain, yes?"

"A bit," Granger admitted. "But please. I just want to go and get back to normal."

"I really don't think it's the best idea. I suppose I could allow it… But you'll be unsteady on your feet for at least the next few days. You might not even have the strength to walk back to your dormitory," said Madam Pomfrey. Granger looked disappointed.

"I can take her," interjected Draco abruptly.

Why the fuck had he just said that? He should be keeping his distance from her; he should be trying to get back to how he used to be, with his haughty superiority and his mocking of her dirty blood. Yet here he was, offering to help her, and Granger was a bitch because her eyes had snapped up to him and were shining with what was maybe gratitude. Those eyes… How could he possibly try to hate her when she had those eyes?

"I suppose if you're accompanied you can leave. But you're not to exert yourself. Rest as much as possible. You're very weak still," agreed Madam Pomfrey.

She left briefly then returned with Granger's belongings in hand – her clothes, some jewellery, and the bag she'd been carrying before she'd been attacked. Draco politely turned away as Granger struggled out of the hospital pyjamas and into her clothes, all the while still sat on the bed.

"You can look now," she said softly after a minute.

He turned to face her again. She was clothed and still as appealing as ever to him. Fuck. He was so far gone.

At last, she stepped out of the bed. She was tentative, swinging her legs out carefully then gradually easing weight onto them, before at last straightening up and letting go of the support of the bed. For a second she stood, triumphant though her legs were wobbling dangerously, but then her smile slipped, they gave out and she tumbled to the ground. Or she would have, if Draco hadn't automatically darted forwards and caught her.

She fell into his grip and he cushioned her before planting her back upright. Her face was flushed in embarrassment and shame, though her hands gripped his arms tightly, so he didn't release her. At the moment, he didn't want to touch her – he should be objecting more; she was a Mudblood, a filthy little Mudblood, he had to remember that – but he couldn't let her fall.

"Don't let Madam Pomfrey see," Granger whispered hurriedly, glancing nervously at the nurse's office. "She'll make me stay."

"I suppose I'll have to hold you up then," he replied begrudgingly.

He moved his hand from her wrist to just above her waist, reluctantly allowing it to rest there. She squeezed his shoulder determinedly as he waited patiently for her to step into her shoes and grab her things, and then they quickly left the ward before Granger could be ushered back to bed.

After their hasty exit, progress to their dorm was slow. Though they said nothing out loud, it appeared that both he and Granger had decided to take the most secretive route they could think of because their current position was so intimate that they couldn't risk being seen. Not only that, but Granger was clearly weak and in pain and could only manage a very slow walk.

The silence was becoming unbearable. She was so close but apart from occasional whimpers of pain she made no sound. Her vanilla scent was clogging his nostrils and lungs, making him lightheaded and angrier. What was she doing to him?

By the time they reached the third floor, Granger looked terrible. Madam Pomfrey had been right- she shouldn't have left today. Her skin was pale and she looked like she was sweating from exertion; it seemed that at any minute she'd keel over from exhaustion, yet still she struggled on, refusing to be beaten. Stupid, stubborn Gryffindors. They never knew when to give up, even when they were obviously defeated.

Two minutes later, he couldn't watch her struggle anymore.

"Granger, have a rest. You're killing yourself," he said.

"No… it's not too far now," she panted.

"Just rest for a second."

"Honestly, it's fine, I don't need to-"

"For fuck's sake Hermione, just sit down for a minute!" he snapped.

Perhaps it was his rare use of her first name, or his language, or just his tone in general, but she stopped and looked at him with wide eyes. She bit her lip and glanced around.

"Ok," she murmured, overcome. "But in here," she said, gesturing to a nearby tapestry.

As a mess of entwined arms, they hobbled over together though Draco didn't know why. Then she peeled back the tapestry to reveal a small passageway that he hadn't known existed. Granger stumbled in and then collapsed on the floor. He followed her, allowing the hanging to fall back into place.

"How did you know about here?" he asked incredulously as he sat down.

"Harry," she replied simply, before leaning her head against the wall with her eyes closed and breathing deeply.

Of course. Because precious Potter always knew everything. For the first time, Draco wished he was a little more like The Boy Who Lived. Life would be so much easier then; every choice would be much simpler because he'd just have to pick the right thing, instead of improvising at every new confusing situation. Maybe if he was more like Potter, he could have just been with Granger from the start. She'd have probably had him if he had been born a good guy. He shook his head to clear away such pointless wishes.

"Why do you do that to yourself?" he asked after a little while, staring at Granger intently.

She opened her eyes and looked at him.

"Do what?"

"Carry on, even when you know you can't."

Granger laughed darkly. "What do you think I've been doing all year, Malfoy?" she said sadly.

Her words struck him. She was struggling still, wasn't she? Just like everybody else. In fact, probably more than everybody else – she just hid it better. Draco was relieved that he wasn't alone in feeling like everything was too much.

"Ready to try again?" he asked after about ten minutes had passed.

She was still very white, though she had regained a little of her colour. After a second, she nodded grimly and he helped pull her to her feet.

This time, they made it to their dorm without having to stop, though by the time they'd gotten there they were pushing curfew. Granger was putting most of her weight on him as the portrait granted them entrance. They staggered into the centre of the common room and then suddenly she made him stop.

He stared at her, and once more she seemed embarrassed.

"Do you…do you think you could…help me to my bedroom?" she asked hesitantly, not able to meet his gaze.

"Sure," he said, as though it was not a very large thing to ask of him.

They walked together up the step**s** to the raised half of the room, past his door and towards hers. He pushed open her door with his shoulder and helped her in.

The room was almost identical to his, except where his furnishings were green and silver hers were red and gold. But it was not what he had expected, though he was unsure why. Maybe he'd thought it would be more personal than his sparse chamber, but it was not; there were no trinkets or pictures or ornaments. It was just as bare as his.

Crossing the room, he eased her weight off him and dropped her into a sitting position on her double bed. She mumbled her thanks and slipped off her shoes, and though he'd told himself he must be distant from her, he walked over the crimson carpet and closed her curtains, so that the only light came from some candles around the place. Then he thought he better leave.

"When did I get like this?" Granger asked suddenly as he neared the door.

He stopped, unsure whether she was speaking to him or to herself.

"Like what?" he said finally, turning back around to face her.

"Different. Sad, hopeless, and lonely and… welldifferent. I'm changing," she explained.

Draco took two steps closer to her. He certainly knew how that felt.

"Are you?"

"Yes. I'm not the same as I was a few years ago. Or even at the start of this year. I'm losing touch with myself."

He sighed. God, she had no idea how much everything she was saying fit in with him too. Why had she suddenly decided to get all philosophical on him?

"Nobody stays the same forever. Changing is part of life. It's inevitable. It just…happens."

"But I don't want to change," she said miserably.

"Granger, you're changing all the time. Everyone is. It's not something you can really control," he replied.

"Yes, but I only started noticing how fast it was happening recently! With everything that's happened with me and you!" she snapped.

So this was where it had all been leading. She wanted to talk about them, finally, after she had gone to such extreme lengths to ignore everything in the past. He moved closer again and leant against the bedside table, running a hand through his hair.

"Don't you think I know what you mean, Granger? I feel the same."

"And how are you dealing with it?" she queried, as though genuinely searching for advice.

"I don't know…by just telling myself that those situations are just examples of unexplained little things that happened in life without reason or purpose. By convincing myself that they're nothing to do with me - I'm just a pawn of the universe," he admitted.

"Do you believe that?"

He didn't know what he believed anymore. He had absolutely no clue.

"Maybe. But if you can't believe _that_, then just put everything behind you. You've said it time and time again: those things meant nothing. Or at least, you thought it. That's why you ignored them, isn't it? So leave them behind, and learn to ignore the past, disregard the future and just live in the present. Life's easier that way."

"Is that what you do?" she demanded, in a way that was almost accusing.

"Yes," he said.

"Is it?"

Was it? If he truly was going to forget everything but the present, what did he want to do? There was a gleam in Granger's eyes that told him the answer.

And that was what made him close the gap between them and latch his mouth onto hers. He'd live in the moment, and fuck everything else, even if it would make him hate himself later.

Maybe she was doing it too because she grabbed him tightly, digging her nails into the flesh of his upper back, and suddenly she found strength from somewhere because she pulled him down onto the bed with her. She hadn't even frozen up in surprise. Always the clever one - she'd been expecting it, hadn't she?

He hoisted her onto his lap, just like last time, and she hooked both her legs around him. He hoped that this time, just maybe, she wouldn't make him stop. He didn't think he'd be able to take it if she stopped. Not again.

Luckily, she didn't seem eager to end anything so far. She sighed and let out a little whimper of pleasure as her hands stroked his back, and her mouth opened. To his surprise, when he opened his too her tongue slipped into it. She really was letting this happen. She wanted it. She wanted him.

He felt a twinge in his groin. Slowly, he lowered himself and Hermione down so that they were lying back on her bed, and he propped himself up on his hands as he began nibbling at her bottom lip, holding himself up so he wouldn't crush her with his weight. Another whimper - he felt her clutch at him harder.

He parted from her, planting tiny, barely-there kisses down her chin and across her jaw, stopping at the sensitive part of her neck just below her ear and sucking and kissing it, drawing a breathy gasp from her. She tasted as good as she smelt, her skin warm and creamy, like vanilla. He lifted his weight onto one arm, stroking her hair as he bruised her lips once more with a passionate kiss.

"Damn you," he muttered against them, as his skin began to prickle and warm shivers ran down his spine. "Damn you so fucking much. How do you do this to me?"

She answered only by pulling him closer and gripping his neck to pull him in as her other hand trailed down his chest before she let out a shuddering moan when his mouth left hers again and licked and nipped at her earlobe. His free hand began tracing circles on her waist through her clothes.

She was incredible. He wanted her so much he could barely make sense of it. Normal thought processes seemed to fail him but he knew he could feel something, something so strong it threatened to blind him, but it wasn't his physical need. It wasn't the same as the tightness he could feel in his groin. It was in his chest, in his eyes, in his head and his entire body. But it felt foreign and somehow wrong. He tried to ignore it and just enjoy what was happening.

He was on fire all over. Every inch of his skin tingled with anticipation and desire. He wanted her – why had he ever thought he hadn't? He couldn't remember, couldn't think straight… she was clouding and ensnaring all of his senses.

Her breasts were pushing up against his hard chest, and he could feel them rub against him as her breath hitched and she panted. He was so caught up in the euphoric feeling of the moment that he almost didn't register when her fingers began clumsily fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

For a millisecond, he almost stopped. But he refused to let himself pull away from her. She wanted his clothes off… Oh Merlin, this was too fucking good. His dreams had absolutely nothing on this.

Her trembling hands finally undid the last fiddly little button, and without breaking their kiss she slipped it from his shoulders and threw it somewhere, somewhere far away. She'd hidden this side of herself so well. But she was a demon. She craved him as much as he desired her. Her left hand began to trail down his back, down his waist and hips, and then tentatively and delicately brushed against his most sensitive area. It was barely a touch, but he had to fight hard to stop himself losing control right there at that second.

He kissed her neck, clamping down hard on it, trying to express with his movement just how much he wanted her. Just as he softly bit down, pressing his teeth against her hot flesh, she shuddered and pushed him away. _No, no, no, _he thought. He knew it. He knew she didn't really want him. She was such a tease.

But she didn't push him offher. Instead, her eyes raked his exposed flesh, gleaming with what he recognised as lust. There were flecks of golden desire as well as a cloud of fear in her beautiful, big eyes.

"What are you doing?" he queried. His own voice sounded laboured and croaky, he noticed.

"Shh!" she hushed him, and he stayed silent. He didn't want to do anything to convince her she didn't want this. He didn't want to make her realise her mistake.

She seemed to just be taking in the sight of him. He noticed her bite her lip and it ignited sparks of heightened need in the bottom of his abdomen. Dear God, she was amazing. How had he not seen it in all the years he'd known her?

After a second of staring she hesitantly began to ease herself out of her shirt.

He stared at her swollen red lips for a second before he reached out and touched her wrist, stopping her. _Why?! _his head screamed at him. _Because he had to be sure. _

"Do you know what you're doing?" he asked her.

Her eyes lit up almost devilishly, but she did indeed look terrified. Yet she remained so sexy and radiant that it was almost excruciating.

"No. I have absolutely no idea," she replied softly, and then removed her top completely and pulled him back again.

Want and raging hormones were overriding her fear and probably her rational thought, but he could live with that. He had essentially just gotten consent to continue, so he crushed his lips to hers and pressed himself against her, his now painful erection brushing against her thigh through his trousers. Once more her nails scraped at his now bare back, stinging wonderfully, and he slid one of his hands up her leg, drawing a line from her calf all the way to her inner thigh, eliciting from her a moan of guttural delight. It spurred him on.

With great delicacy, he removed her school skirt, throwing it backwards somewhere into the darkness that was their surroundings. They could have been anywhere right now, and he wouldn't have known or cared for that matter. It was him, her and a bed- that was all there was in the entire universe. Then she began fumbling with the button at the top of his pants. _Bloody hell; this was really happening. _

Now both in just their underwear, he could feel her soft flesh against his, and it was burning hot, like fire solidified. Perfect, smooth, freckled fire pressing against his own icy pale flesh- except for the blue and yellow bruises marring her legs in places. He slid down her figure and kissed each blemish on her naked legs, and she tousled his hair. Then he reached her face once more, and claimed her mouth.

Deftly, he reached one hand behind her back and unhooked her plain black bra. She helped him slip it off and he couldn't help it; he unattached himself from her, sat back and stared at her free breasts. Merlin, they were perfect. Like everything else about her. Round and supple and begging to be touched. He planted a kiss near her collarbone and began to caress her, causing her to arch her back and whimper. That did it.

He ferociously attacked her mouth, and used the hand that wasn't occupied to pull off her knickers. They were a boring, bland beige, much more like the Hermione he thought he knew. He flung them aside. As she writhed and moaned beneath him, her hands scrabbled desperately at his boxers and he bit back a moan. No other girl had ever done this to him. Ever. Somehow, she managed to pull them off, releasing him from the confines of the fabric straining against him.

She was as beautiful naked as she was by moonlight, sunlight, firelight, or at any other time. Flickering shadows of flames cast by the candles danced across her face and she was biting her bottom lip, her eyes closed as he continued to kiss her and stroke her soft skin.

Then he removed his hand from her glorious chest, trailing it downwards, looking to her face for any sign that she was unsure or regretful. He'd never been so happy to see her eyes. Nothing but need.

Soon, she was moaning and panting, and clawing at his back and breathing his name, his surname, over and over. He alternated between looking at her beautiful near-orgasmic face and kissing her forehead; her stomach; her legs; any part of her flesh he could reach, all of which was breaking out in light beads of perspiration.

He loved the way she looked. He loved how vulnerable she seemed. He loved…

He tensed up. _That's enough, _he told himself sharply.

And then suddenly, he saw all of her muscles tighten; she took in a great shuddering breath, a striking staccato of pleasure, and finally - sweet release. She whimpered and groaned, gripping his shoulders tight, and he tried not to explode at the mere sight of her. He kissed her softer than before then he knew he could hold himself no longer. He repositioned himself so he was leaning over her and looked her in the eyes.

"Do you want this? Really?" he asked.

She stared at him. She was so fantastic. Her mind was probably addled with endorphins, but he did note there was still apprehension in her gaze. Her whole face was flushed.

"Yes."

The one word he desperately wanted to hear came from her but he still wasn't sure.

"Granger, are you absolutely certain you-"

"Bloody hell, Malfoy! I'm living in the moment, like you said!" she snapped. "I want this," she whispered desperately, so he gave her what she desired.

She clenched around him and squeaked. He saw her face screwed up in pain and he felt sick for having caused it– this was her first time after all. He was her first, he realised with a shock. She could say what she wanted after this, but she could never take that away from him. By all intents and purposes, Granger was forever his now. He'd staked his claim. The thought made him want to smile smugly and shout it to the world, though it shouldn't have. But hell, he shouldn't have wanted to have sex with her, and that was happening.

He gave her a few seconds without moving, trying to ignore how warm and incredible she was, breathing deeply so he didn't finish too soon. A single tear rolled down her cheek and she gripped his forearms so fiercely he could see the skin around her fingertips turn white.

"I'm ok," she murmured at last, opening her eyes.

So he slid himself in fully, and she gasped, but not totally with pain this time. He tried to move slowly at first, gradually building up a rhythm and gathering speed, and she wriggled a little beneath him. He fought to keep hold over himself. After a minute or two, she began clinging to him again, her flesh slowly becoming damp just like his as sweat trickled down their bodies.

All his muscles were beginning to clench up. He fought to maintain control, wanting her to have her release before he had his, and soon he felt her begin to convulse and spasm beneath him and around him. She was whimpering again, her bottom lip wobbling, and he rested his damp forehead against hers. The noise was so delightful and amazing that he nearly lost it for the fourth time.

But then she began to shake as everything overcame her. So he indulged, moving now with increased speed and power in a frenzy of desperate desire. He felt her squeeze his arms tightly, and she let out a sighing moan of his first name and around two seconds after, the world went white, sound failed him and he felt his own total and utter release as his body exploded with pleasure and he let out a groan as his body began to shudder.

At last, spent, he collapsed on top of her, naked flesh meeting naked flesh as they panted and the last waves of delight overtook them.

For five minutes they lay, gasping and tangled together, a mess of heat and dampness and heavy breathing, struggling to return from the heights of their ecstasy now that it was over.

And then the full force of what had happened struck him.

He'd just had sex with Hermione Granger. And not only that; he'd taken her virginity too. Fuck. This was insane.

Just after he realised this, Granger disentangled herself from him and felt around for her clothes. She pulled her wand out of her pocket and muttered a common contraceptive charm. For a moment, she glowed blue and then she was back to being sweaty and a mess and flawless. Draco wondered how she knew about the spell - from a book, no doubt.

She looked at him, but there was no wanton lust or desire in her eyes anymore. They were empty and dull. Then horror crept into her gaze and his stomach sunk almost painfully. As if suddenly aware of her nakedness, she pulled up the sheets around her. For about a minute, she just stared and struggled to form words.

"I think you should go."

He nodded, her words crushing him though he didn't know why, because he'd expected her to say them. He slipped off her bed and pulled on his pants which lay abandoned nearby, gathering up the rest of his clothes in one arm.

"It was a mistake, Granger. Just…just another one of those unexplained things," he said, because he knew that was what she would want to hear.

But as he slipped out of her room, he wished it wasn't the way it had to be.

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><p><strong>Ok, be gentle. I've never written anything like this before. Feedback would be very much appreciated. Love you all!<strong>


	28. Aftermath

**A/n - Wotcher! Feeling much more positive this week thanks to all your lovely reviews- thank you klausism and My Happy Llama for spamming me with reviews: I loved your enthusiasm. Smayoh- I promise I feel better. And obviously, everybody else who took the time to review, thank you so much, it's helped in a particularly tricky week. I definitely feel much better about my writing skills and thanks for the lovely feedback on my first ever bit of smut :)**

**But, now, as the sun shines and gives me the hope that my writers block is starting to disappear (thank god!) I just want to say thanks for sticking with the story even when I fill the A/Ns with irrelevant teen drama. **

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><p>Never, in all her eighteen years, had Hermione felt as confused and overwhelmed as she did right now, she thought as she slipped on her shoes. She pulled her school clothes on in a bleary haze of automatic routine, though she stayed sat on her bed as her treacherous legs still couldn't be fully trusted to support her.<p>

She'd barely slept last night because too many things had been swimming around in her head so her brain felt like a washing machine on a constant spin cycle. It was beginning to become a little boring if she was honest: repeatedly doing things with Malfoy and feeling nothing but horror and confusion and some kind of reluctant contentment afterwards, then attempting to convince herself that it hadn't mattered. She needed to stop denying what was obvious. Somehow, over the course of the year so far and despite everything that he had said in the past, she had developed an attraction to Malfoy.

That wasn't to say that the truth fixed anything, nor that she accepted it. She did realise that a part of her was admittedly a little happy. More of her was panicking because what would she and Malfoy do now? What would people say if they knew? What did it mean? But then there was that piece of her that wanted to cry, and not even because she'd done something that a few months ago, she'd never have even contemplated. It was because he'd said it was a mistake.

She tried to keep her mind blank as she slowly made her way from her room, but it didn't work. Flashbacks to last night, or fear and panic, or thoughts of partial regret kept flashing across her mind making her feel almost nauseous. She had crossed the line. To kiss him was one thing. To sleep with him was another. And then to feel terrible because he'd called it a mistake was catastrophic.

And she couldn't stop thinking about him now, like she had opened some kind of floodgate in her mind and waves of ceaseless thoughts about that bastard Pureblood were drowning her mind. But she hadn't seen him this morning. He'd left the dorm before she'd even woken up.

This was why she never 'lived in the moment.' It always led to these unforeseen consequences; it was why she always assessed a situation before making a move. Now she had to face her feelings and deal with all her conflicting emotions and it was as draining as it was irritating.

She had something new entirely to worry about when her body betrayed her just as it had last night, and she found herself crumpled and dizzy at the foot of the third floor stairs. Her bruises began to burn fiercely beneath her uniform.

She must have left for breakfast quite early, because there was no-one else around. Why had she been so adamant to leave the hospital wing yesterday? She clearly hadn't been ready to, but she was so stubborn. The residual sting of the Cruciatus curse burned through her once more, through her limbs and extremities, and she winced.

For a minute or two, she tried to hoist herself up off the ground unsuccessfully, until she finally surrendered to the realisation that she did not have the strength to manage it. She sat back, her belongings strewn about her from falling out of her bag, and coupled with everything, she almost wanted to cry from frustration. But she didn't; she didn't let herself. She'd been too vulnerable lately. Not anymore.

She resolved to just sit back and wait for someone to come along and help her – though it wasn't something she usually did – but luckily she didn't have to wait long. Catching a glimpse of a black cloak and a flash of a red and gold scarf, she called out.

"Hello? Could you help me please?"

Merlin, she sounded pathetic.

The person walked tentatively back into view and to her relief she saw it was Dean Thomas. She knew him; he was a nice boy, he'd help her.

"Dean!" she said with obvious relief. "Could you help me up please? I had a bit of a fall and now I can't get back up."

Dean nodded and hurried towards her and within seconds he'd scooped her up off the floor and pulled her to her feet. Below her, she could feel her legs trembling so she clutched at Dean's shoulder gratefully.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" he asked with concern. "Do you need me to take you to the hospital wing?"

She knew she should have said yes, but she just didn't want to go back there; she was sick of everybody fussing over her. Yet she also knew she could hardly go to lessons in this state.

"No. But would you mind taking me back to my dorm? It isn't too far."

"Of course not, I'll take you," Dean smiled gently.

He briefly set her down on the bottom stair and began picking her things up for her. His simple act of kindness reminded her how much she missed Gryffindor. Now that she didn't share a tower with her housemates anymore she felt disconnected and barely saw any of the people she considered friends, such as Dean. In fact she couldn't even remember the last time she'd spoken to him. She wasn't in the loop anymore. Maybe that was a good thing- it made it easier to hide things.

Dean handed her belongings back to her then began helping her up the stairs. Hermione was getting sick of relying on people like this; she just wanted to get back to being independent. She hated feeling like a porcelain doll that would crack at any time.

She and Dean exchanged a little small talk; he asked her how she was doing after her attack (which of course everyone in school knew about), she lied and said she was fine, and then she asked about life in Gryffindor tower which seemed to quiet him, as all he said was: "It's alright."

For a minute or two after he had fallen silent, she wondered why he seemed so put out to think of their house.

"I'm surprised you even let me help you out, you know," he said sullenly after a while. "You must be the only person apart from Seamus who doesn't mind speaking to me now."

Then she remembered what Ginny had told her about him and Daphne Greengrass. While she didn't think much of his taste in women, who was she to talk really? Once more she became confused as to the extreme lengths everyone had gone to in order to shut Dean out for something as simple as dating a Slytherin.

"Why would I avoid you? What you do is your business. I actually don't see why people are so annoyed at you," she said sincerely.

Dean looked at her in puzzlement. She realised why quickly.

"I mean, yes, most people did shut me and Theo out when we were dating… but I mean, no-one really yelled at me or anything, and some people would still talk to me. I don't get why it's worse for you now. Everybody's really overreacting."

"Of course they're overreacting, Hermione. It's because of the war and everything that it's worse now," replied Dean.

Hermione frowned a little. "What do you mean?"

Dean looked thoughtful for a second. "I don't mean to sound rude or anything… but actually, it's all kind of because of you."

"What?" she asked, alarmed. How could it be because of her?

"I'm sorry, that came out pretty harsh," said Dean apologetically with a slight sigh. "What I mean is, it was just bad timing. Maybe, if you hadn't been attacked and people had still found out about me and Daphne, it might have been like you and Theo. People wouldn't necessarily have agreed with my choice, but they wouldn't have isolated me like this. But you_ were_ attacked on the day people found out, and it set everyone on edge- you haven't been around to notice it, but the whole castle feels different. Everyone's scared now. People got more paranoid than before because they could actually feel the danger because you got hurt, and then Lavender found out about Daphne and it was just one thing too many for everyone."

"I still don't think I fully understand," said Hermione.

"Think about it like this: on the day that something terrible finally happens, and a student is nearly killed in the village so near to Hogwarts where everyone thought they were safe, it gets everybody thinking more about why it happened. So they realise it's the war, and then they think about why the war is happening, and then they realise it's mostly about Purebloods hating Muggleborns. And then just when they've remembered all this, they find out a Muggleborn has been caught in a relationship with a Pureblood."

Suddenly Hermione realised why it was worse for Dean now. The castle could insulate people from the horrors of the outside world – she knew this, it had happened to her before –but when they remembered, suddenly things that were out of the ordinary seemed a million times worse.

"So… so they think that you're fraternising with the enemy or something?" she asked.

"I guess you could call it that," replied Dean sourly. "They think that I should hate all Purebloods and because I don't, I'm instantly labelled as different. And now everyone's so scared, different is dangerous so they have to cut me out."

Dean's well thought-out explanation left Hermione momentarily speechless. She'd never felt as much sympathy for one person, and she tried to focus on that sympathy rather than the selfish thought that had just sprung into her mind: _imagine what people would do if they found out about what she'd done with Malfoy._

"I'm so sorry, Dean," she said lamely. "You don't deserve this."

"No, I don't think so. But I can hardly blame everyone. They're just reacting naturally," Dean said sadly.

Dean took her the rest of the way to her room wordlessly and for that she was grateful; by the time she'd got reasonably close to the dorm it was taking all her energy to remain upright and walking. He led her to the portrait under her occasional nod of direction and he released her. She leant against the wall for support and mumbled a quiet thanks.

"I'll tell the Professors you're ill," Dean said reassuringly.

"Thanks Dean," she said again, and then he walked off.

She whispered the password to the painting and dragged herself inside the common room, collapsing onto the sofa because she knew she couldn't make it to her bedroom without help. She was exhausted from the short journey. Perhaps, she decided as she heaved her leaden body into a horizontal position on the plush sofa, she just needed a rest period to aid her recovery. Perhaps she just needed to rest…

Most of the day, Hermione slipped in and out of consciousness, each time she woke up, rousing enough to realise she'd been dreaming something disturbing, but not lucid enough to realise what it had been. Then suddenly, about mid-day, she was woken by a loud bang which vibrated and rippled through the air and through her and caused her to jolt upright.

She glimpsed a flash of black disappear past her and for a moment or two, she thought it was the same darkness that she vaguely remembered chasing her through her dreams. The she shook herself and looked around properly, but there was no-one around. Maybe she was being paranoid- she'd just woken up after another dream and now she was seeing things-

Then she came face to face with Malfoy.

He had always been pale, but somehow, the second he saw her he turned whiter. His eyes were red and veiny and had dark circles underneath them and his hair was messy and clumpy; it looked like he'd gotten about as much sleep last night as she had. She felt all the blood drain from her face and her mouth dropped open without her accord.

Once, when she'd been very small, her father and she had been driving down a country lane and he had nearly hit a doe with the car. It had stood, terrified, frozen and unblinking before her father had braked sharply and it had fled. That was how Malfoy was looking at her now, except he didn't try to run; he just stayed looking at her with wide eyes that were full of fear and anger and something she couldn't place.

In an attempt at recovery, she closed her gaping mouth and then opened it again, making a small noise that could have been the start of a word but somehow she never managed to fully form it. Malfoy carried on staring and then swallowed.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in class?" he choked, running a hand through his mess of hair.

"I fell again," she replied with great difficulty. "I had to come back here."

He was looking at her like all he wanted to do was run away, or like he wished she was anywhere else in the world instead of sat in front of him. Then again, he probably did. After all, _he'd _said it was a mistake for them to sleep together. She did agree though. Mostly. He regretted what had happened as much as she did- or as much as she told herself she did.

"Why are _you _here?" she asked him.

"I was dropping off my Herbology stuff from this morning. I didn't want to carry it round all day."

How could they pretend to hold a normal conversation? Nothing was normal for them, and it probably wouldn't be again.

Malfoy started clenching and unclenching his fists. "If you fell over again, you should probably have gone to the hospital wing," he said quietly, looking out of the window instead of at her.

"I didn't want to go back there."

He nodded. Her stomach churned horribly.

"Have you eaten today?" he asked, looking back at her and echoing her question to him only the other day.

"No, I've been asleep," she replied.

Again, he nodded and then without speaking he swept out of the dorm.

She felt partially relieved when he slipped out; she was glad that she felt she could breathe again, but at the same time enraged that he felt he could just leave her to cope with what they'd done on her own. She wanted to talk about it and work through the problem logically to find a solution, if there was one, or equally she would have settled for just screaming at something so she could let all her emotions out.

Flopping back on the couch, she closed her eyes and waited for the haze of sleep to wash over her, but it didn't come, and so about five minutes later she sat back up.

She had been expecting Malfoy's arrival at the dorm much later, when classes finished, and she had planned to have crawled into her room by then so she wouldn't have to see him. She hadn't been prepared to come face to face with him so soon, and she hadn't been prepared for the strong feeling of longing when she had spotted him.

As much as she wished she could deny it, there was something about that boy that made him desirable to her, so much so that the mere sight of him just now had brought back a rush of fragmented memories of last night. And the worst part was that most of them made her shiver and tingle all over in a very strange way.

Suddenly, she groaned out loud. Why couldn't she just shut off her brain for five minutes and get some peace from her ceaseless confusion? She closed her eyes and sighed, kneading her face with her hands, and then she heard a creak and glanced over to see the portrait hole swing open again meaning for the second time in about ten minutes she was greeted with the sight of Malfoy.

He silently walked towards her and then to her great surprise set down a bowl of broth, a bread roll, some pumpkin juice and a treacle tartlet onto the mahogany coffee table just in front of the couch.

"Here," he said briefly without glancing at her, and then he strode into his room and returned with his schoolbag over his shoulder.

Hermione was confused as to why Malfoy had done something so... well, so nice. It struck her suddenly as quite odd that she hadn't really questioned why he might be willing to sleep with her, and yet she did question small little nice things he did.

"Why've you brought me this?" she asked disbelievingly.

"You need to eat, Granger," he said, his back to her.

"Yes, but that isn't what I meant."

He turned around with angry eyes and a gaze that clearly said what he didn't dare to out loud: "_So we can have sex but I can't bring you lunch?_" But he didn't say a word, and just left instead while Hermione blushed fiercely and looked down.

She stared at the portrait long after it had swung shut behind him before she looked at the meal on the table. She didn't want to eat the food he had brought her, because she already depended on him more than she cared to think about, and when he did thoughtful things it just messed with her head. But then her empty stomach growled at her so she ripped off a chunk of the bread and dipped it in the broth before cramming it greedily into her mouth. Before she knew it she'd eaten the whole bowl with the bread, and the tart too.

Her last thought before she drifted off to sleep again, with a full stomach and feeling a little perkier than she had that morning, was that despite the fact Malfoy was being cold to her, and despite the fact he claimed that the night before had been a mistake, he must have brought her the food for some reason. And actually, that thought made her feel a bit better.

She didn't wake up again until it was dark outside, and similarly the room had grown almost pitch black around her. None of the candles were lit, though the embers of the usual cheery fire lay, still glowing, in the grate.

Sitting up, Hermione saw that the remnants of her lunch had been cleared away and replaced by another meal; this time it was a rich, meaty stew and potatoes with an apple and a piece of lemon meringue pie. She knew it must have been Malfoy once more who had provided it, though he was nowhere to be seen. A faint chink of light filtering into the room from the crack beneath his door indicated to Hermione that he was hiding out in his bedroom, no doubt to get away from her.

Without pausing to consider it, she wolfed down the rather cold stew and pie hungrily. It filled a gap inside of her somewhat, although she could still feel a kind of hollowness in her that she knew instinctively that she couldn't fill with food.

Biting down into the sweet green flesh of the fruit, she tried for the first time since yesterday to really consider her situation.

She couldn't tell anyone, that much was obvious. And it wasn't even just because it was Malfoy she had slept with, because she'd wanted it a lot at the time- even if it had been a mistake and one that she was adamant she wouldn't repeat. If her conversation with Dean had taught her anything, it was that if people found out, it would bring nothing but trouble. She'd just have to ensure it never happened again, because she couldn't afford for it to happen.

But despite this, she just wanted to talk about it. Was Malfoy feeling this conflicted too, or did he see her as just another conquest, another notch on his bed post? That would be humiliating and it was painful to even think about.

Of course, they had kissed before, but it didn't prove he felt anything beyond the fact that they'd been together in her bedroom and she'd been more than willing to take her clothes off for him, and therefore he'd decided not to pass up on the opportunity. Hermione felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment at the thought of how uninhibited she'd been. And, she thought hastily, the fact that she'd slept with him didn't prove she felt anything other than a physical attraction to him, either.

Finished with it now, Hermione placed the apple core with the rest of the remains of her meal and tried to stand. It was remarkably easier now, she found, and she was delighted when she realised her legs weren't shaking, though they did feel quite jellified. In fact, she made it all the way to her room without stumbling or collapsing, which usually was no small feat, but today it was as rewarding as if she'd just run a marathon. The food and rest must have done her the world of good, she thought happily, as she slumped onto her bed.

The sheets were fresh, which she was very grateful of because it meant she could no longer smell the lingering lemon-liquorice-Malfoy smell that had stayed in her bed after he'd left last night. She tried to ignore the memories of him attached to this place, and ignore the small inkling of fear that she might have another nightmare, and after a short while she even managed to drift off to sleep.

* * *

><p><em>Darkness chases her, closer than ever before, so close that she can actually feel it make a grab at her once or twice, but she always, always, always keeps running. Don't turn around, don't stop. Just outrun it. She knows she cannot stay ahead forever, but she will try. <em>

_It suddenly swallows her up without warning, and as a result piercing hot pain shoots through her, up her legs and arms and spine to her very brain, triggering her body to start spasming. She cries out but the sound is snatched from her when she stops falling through the inside of the blackness and lands on her back, winded. She can't think for a second, and then she slowly becomes aware that though her whole body is screaming, at least the twitching has stopped._

_Aching all over, she is bruised and battered. Her nostrils fill with the scent of musty decay and fallen leaves, and the ground is wet beneath her. Her back is soaked in seconds. She can see a looming canopy of leaves above her, blocking out the sky, but she knows it is night-time. It feels wrong here, and then she realises why; there is no sound at all. Not a bird in a tree, not the rustling of leaves. A single scream destroys the eerie silence around her. _

_She sits up and sees that she is lying in the Forbidden Forest. Then another scream and the sounds of a dull roar, almost like a drum beat. She stands, ignoring the pain, because now in the distance she can see fire and smoke through the trees. _

_Blind panic. She sets off at a run and keeps tripping over roots she cannot see, but she picks herself back up and ignores her cut hands and knees, and runs still. A wall of smoke drifts through the trees, extending suffocating fingers, and begins to choke her. She coughs and splutters as the putrid grey clogs her lungs in a way that makes her chest and throat burn, and her eyes are streaming but she doesn't know if they are tears or just because of the disgusting smog stinging her eyes. The smoke makes her want to turn back and gasp at clean air, but she's almost at the outskirts now. _

_She bursts through the last few trees onto the lawn of the school near Hagrid's hut, but it's bad. Everything is wrong. _

_The grass isn't green, but red. Red. The sky is dark and thunder cracks overhead, and a flash of lighting throws the nearby pumpkin patch into view. But there are no giant pumpkins, only people. Cadavers piled up so high that they obscure Hagrid's house, a mass of white and black and red. Red. _

_The blood on the floor makes the grass sticky beneath her feet, which she only realises now are bare. She screams and then suddenly remembers the smoke when her voice falters in protest. She looks up to see Hogwarts, her home, is burning. Chunks of the building fall away from the whole, crashing to the ground with a horrific bellow. Flame licks at the once majestic castle, ghosting over it and destroying all in its way. The fire is almost blinding and is orange and yellow and white and red. Red. _

_Hogwarts is burning, and somehow, she knows it is all her fault._

_She screams into the night. _

* * *

><p>Draco had been in his room, lying in his bed and staring at the canopy of the four-poster above his head, when he'd heard her start screaming. Instantly he'd tensed up. Not again, he thought.<p>

He could hear her cries through the thin few walls that separated their rooms and they were horrendous, blood-curdling shrieks of pure terror. The sounds made all the hairs on his body prick up and his heart begin to hammer heavily against his ribcage. He sat up and cursed himself for his inability to sleep; he wouldn't be suffering through this if only slumber hadn't eluded him. Of course though, he hadn't been able to get to sleep because of Granger in the first place; he couldn't take his mind off the thought of her naked, beautiful body and the sinking, gut-wrenching feeling that same thought gave him for long enough to drift off.

In any other circumstance, he would have been on high alert now, wondering if there was an intruder, or what was wrong for Granger to sound so distressed, except he knew it would have to be another nightmare. He was no stranger to them himself after everything he'd been through in the past year or so, except he'd learnt from his dorm-mates last year that he only writhed around in his sleep and didn't scream as Granger did. They'd not been as frequent since he'd returned to school this year though.

He couldn't bear to be in his room anymore- her screams, while infrequent, were tormenting him. They made him feel helpless; he had seen her only recently at her most vulnerable, unrestrained moment, and yet she pushed him away the rest of the time. All he could think of doing right now was protecting her, holding her maybe, fighting off her night-time demons - fucking hell, what was wrong with him? - because the taste of her he'd had the other night was addicting and mesmerising. He wanted more. He wanted everything.

She was like no other girl Draco had ever touched before, and he'd had plenty. Granger was better, so much better, he thought as he strode into the common room, and she drew sensations from him that he hadn't known existed. He sat down in the seat farthest away from her bedroom door and jammed his fingers into his ears. They did little to muffle the sounds of her screams, yet he didn't want to Silence her door- that seemed cruel and dismissive. But her cries hurt him.

Granger had been so goddamn perfect last night but she was so torturous. She let him in, allowed him to get close and then ripped herself away again. It was agonising. But he couldn't just tell her that he had feelings for her, could he? She'd probably laugh at him, mock him for wanting her when she didn't want him back. He didn't think he'd be able to cope with that. There was no way she had feelings for him too, because how could she? He was so awful, and she was wonderful. The only reason things happened for them was because they both got caught up in the sensations and under the control of their hormones, not because she actually wanted him. No, it was better to lie to her and hope that she kept forgetting who he was so they could have something, than to tell her how he felt and risk having even that snatched away.

He'd only been trying to give her the space she so clearly desired and that he so thoroughly despised today, and then he'd walked into the common room and had been totally unprepared to see her there. Yet even though the mere sight of her made him want to scream or cry or throw himself at her, he'd contained himself and had brought her food. He'd thought at the time that it could possibly show her that he wasn't an utterly terrible excuse for a human. What a foolish idea, he realised now.

Another piercing shriek flew out of Granger's room and chilled Draco's blood to ice.

She didn't need to know that he'd laced her meals with a Strengthening potion he'd stolen from Slughorn's private stores. As long as she recovered, she probably wouldn't care. She'd just want to get back to lessons as soon as possible. He'd only wanted her well enough so she could do that and then he would be able to predict when and where she would turn up. Predicting her presence would make it easier for him to act like he didn't care; she'd caught him off guard today when he'd seen her and he knew it had shown.

It was almost completely dark in the common room, but Draco had only just noticed. He grabbed his wand out of his pocket and waved it so the candles around the space flickered into life. He stayed sat in the same position for so long he almost fell asleep several times, but each time he'd be jerked back awake by another of Granger's horrible yells. Every time he relaxed his aching muscles as a silence came because he naively hoped that her nightmare had passed, she cried out agonizingly again and he'd tense once more.

Draco felt frozen to the seat. He wanted to run away, but he couldn't bring himself to move. It was like he was watching over her somehow; a lonely, solitary guard over a girl who didn't want safekeeping. He really was a mess.

For about two hours he waited, not knowing quite why, hating how he so frequently now felt compelled to stay by Granger in terrible situations. The clock on the mantle ticked slowly, counting on as second after second trickled by. Still he waited; still came Granger's screams, but by now they were increasing in intensity and abundance.

Then all of a sudden, it stopped.

Draco was confused. He thought perhaps she'd start all over again in a minute or two like she had been doing, but she didn't. Then he thought that maybe he'd just become numb to the sounds because he'd been subjected to them for so long, but then he realised that was a stupid thought because he knew they'd always, always affect him this way.

He'd stood up before he became aware that he'd done it. Taking a tentative step forward, he wanted to move more; he wanted to press his ear to her bedroom door and listen for Granger's breathing, soft and reassuring, behind the wood.

But he didn't get the chance. He saw the doorknob turn from a distance and then the door swung open. Granger was revealed behind it, looking terrible yet incredible at the same time.

She stepped outside and then saw him. Their eyes met, his tired, grey ones that looked like storm clouds meeting her brown ones that were still full of fear. She was still scared from her dream, he could see it. Her face was red, her cheeks wet; a few of her curls were plastered to her damp face, stuck with her tears.

Without saying a word to him, she walked off and retreated into the bathroom and a minute or so later she emerged once more, her face still wet but dripping and not as tear-stained - she had splashed it with cold water probably. He was still stood up, still staring, still unsure of how to feel or what to do.

She tottered over to the centre of the common room, closer to him yet still warily distant. Did she not trust herself around him? But at least she was still here. He'd actually expected her to run off back to her room.

Granger looked down at her socked feet. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?" she asked softly.

"I was already awake," Draco answered truthfully.

Standing up felt strange now, so he sat back down in his chair. He was surprised when she lowered herself onto the couch, drawing her knees up and hugging them into her chest.

"Couldn't sleep?" Granger said to him.

"Not really."

There was a long awkward pause because both of them knew perfectly well why sleep was so hard.

"Were you having another nightmare?" Draco ventured, knowing it was a stupid question because she knew he'd heard her screaming.

Her eyes wandered up from the floor to his face and she looked at him for a second as though she was trying to work out something.

"Yeah," she said slowly after a second. "Yeah, I was."

"Do you maybe want to talk about it?" he offered.

He wanted her to want to talk; he just needed to return to something that resembled how they'd been a couple of weeks ago because, though it was probably the best thing for him to do, avoiding her was awful. Talking was better than nothing.

"Talking might help, actually," Granger nodded.

Draco sat and waited for her to say something more. When she didn't, he tried to coax speech out of her.

"Was it bad?" he asked pathetically.

"What do you think?" she replied with a raised eyebrow.

He grimaced. "Sorry."

Granger shifted slightly on the couch and pulled her knees even tighter to her, resting her chin on them. "It was awful," she said after a little while. "It's starting to make it hard for me to get to sleep, I think. I don't want it to get to the point where every time I try I get scared they'll be there waiting for me. But it's happened most times I've got to sleep since... well, since the time in the hospital."

Draco nodded; he could relate. "What are they about?"

Granger swallowed. "People I love dying, a lot... and there's usually a part about something dark chasing me... or sometimes I'm falling but it always hurts. They probably don't sound that bad to you-"

"No, trust me. I understand," Draco interrupted reassuringly.

She looked up at him and looked at him carefully for a minute or so before nodding. "How come you were awake?"

Draco just stared at her so intently that he could see her start to blush.

"Too many things on my mind," he said solemnly after a second or two, and Granger bowed her head. "Anyway, we aren't talking about me."

She tilted her head so she was leaning on her cheek and stared off into space.

"I'm scared, and not just because the dreams are frightening. I'm scared of myself more than anything, which is probably crazy. What if I'm only having these nightmares because I'm getting weak? Vulnerable? What am I supposed to do?" she said, almost pleadingly. This was similar to what she'd been saying last night.

"You'll never, ever be weak. You're Hermione Granger," he half-laughed, as though it should be obvious. "You're the epitome of everything that _is_ strong."

"Am I? It's not as if this is a new thing," she said disdainfully, looking up at him. "It's happening already, Malfoy. I keep finding new weaknesses that I never knew I had."

Was he one of them? Did she have a weakness for him? Oh Merlin help him if that was true, he'd never stay away from her.

"You know, having vulnerable moments doesn't make you weak, it makes you human," Draco said wisely. "You sound like you think you have to be invincible or something."

"Isn't that basically what you told me I had to be that time when Theo broke your nose?" Granger retorted heatedly.

Draco remembered that conversation with painful clarity because it had been one of their more intimate moments; yes, he'd told her she had to be stronger, but not that she had to be a fucking machine.

"I can't afford to be human," she laughed exasperatedly. "I just can't."

"And why not?" he countered. "Maybe you need to be human so you don't go crazy. Maybe you need some more... vulnerable moments in order to keep a balance. Didn't you say yesterday that you hate that you're changing? If you're going to become 'invincible,' or whatever, isn't that the change you apparently want to avoid?"

Granger turned a little red at his reference to last night. Draco felt that the conversation was drifting very far away from her dreams and closer to discussion of their sleeping together. After all, he'd certainly not been particularly subtle with his referring to 'vulnerable moments'.

"I do hate that I'm changing, but you told me it was inevitable. It seems I'm just speeding up what's unavoidable. So maybe I need to find a way to get avoid the... _dreams_," snapped Granger, with emphasis on the word, "to make sure that I don't get so fragile that I'm easy to break. I might not like it, but it's necessary."

"And what if it was just a one-off?"

"But I've had the dreams- oh," said Granger, realising that they definitely were abandoning the pretence of continuing to discuss her nightmares. They hadn't been talking about them for a while, not really. "Well I have to hope that it was. If not, I don't know what that means for me," she said a little sadly.

She stared at him almost dangerously. Abruptly, she stood up and walked over to her room, leaving Draco with a leaden feeling in his stomach. So it did have to be a one-off. It wouldn't happen again; she wouldn't let it. Why did she have to be so bloody heroic all the time?

"Goodnight, Malfoy," Granger said with a tone of finality.

"'Night," he said numbly as his stomach continued to twist uncomfortably and his chest tightened at the thought of never being with Granger so intimately again.

Her door clicked quietly shut.


	29. Fine

**A/N - Hello all :) **

**Moodswings-ago-go this week, but lately that's nothing new. Also, apologies, but this weeks chapter is slightly shorter than usual, though the next one is jam-packed with action and all kinds of Dramione goodness so worry not. **

***_IMPORTANT_* - I start college in two weeks time (not the same one as Nicole :'( Sad times. And stupidly, I start on a Friday, wtf?) so I'm not fully sure as of yet, but I may withhold an update that Friday just while I get back in the swing of not being able to dedicate all my time to writing. However, if I think I have enough chapters stocked up, I won't. **

**Finally, as usual: Thank you for every single beautiful review. Thank you to my wonderful beta, MrsBates93. **

* * *

><p>A harsh gale whipped at the trees so that they rippled like green waves to and fro, the boughs and branches creaking with the strain as the leaves hissed angrily to each other. Over in a distant corner of the grounds, the Whomping Willow thrashed and swung around wildly, battering the heavy raindrops that fell all over it and all over Hogwarts.<p>

The sky stayed perpetually dark after Hermione returned to her lessons the next day, and for the rest of the week; thick grey clouds obscured the blue above, and the only change was the occasional boom of thunder and a fork of lightning which would fracture the stormy atmosphere. Hermione had more pressing concerns than the weather though, so it didn't bother her too much.

Her day of rest in the dorm and the Strengthening Potion she had unknowingly ingested had left her feeling well enough to get back to her classes and she fought hard to catch up on two days of missed schoolwork. But even that didn't have her full attention. Nothing really did after her conversation with Malfoy.

Hermione hated herself for the frustrating fact that she could no longer trust her body or her brain because of Malfoy. She loathed the way that in quieter, solitary moments her mind would replay the night they had slept together and how it would make her insides feel like they were melting and turn her limbs to jelly.

But it had been quite good. Very good, actually. In fact… she found that if she could just convince herself for a few seconds that it hadn't happened with Malfoy she could almost say it had been wonderful.

However, the truth was that it _had _been with Malfoy, and losing her virginity had not gone how she had expected it to. For one, she had thought it would be with someone who actually gave a damn about her, not with an ex-Death Eater in a frenzied tumble of pent up emotions stemming from their illicit kisses before it had happened. For another, she had assumed it would have happened with someone she loved in the midst of a comfortable, happy relationship – she and Malfoy were about as far from that as it was possible to get. But at the very least, he had been kind about it. He had asked her permission and tried not to hurt her… until of course he'd left her with a callous little sentence about it being a mistake.

And now she was on the horns of a dilemma. Hermione could not deny that now her skin had felt the way Malfoy's fingers could skim across it, springing goosebumps up all over her and sending shivers up and down her spine; now her lips had had frequent tastes of him; now she knew how incredible he could make her feel… she ached for more, as much as she despised admitting it.

She'd never really been able to understand how some people could crave... _that..._ but now… well, she was beginning to learn. It slightly disgusted her, especially when she remembered who she was yearning for: Draco Malfoy, who'd called her a Mudblood and who hated her for being born; who had bullied her and her friends relentlessly for six years now; who'd pinned her against a wall by her throat for talking to his friend. She was sick in the head, she must be.

It wasn't like she imagined being with him again… no, that was a lie. She had. It was irritating now to be left to the whims of her hormones; they were nowhere near as reliable or as sensible as her brain. Except now her normally good brain was furious with her because it too wanted her to be with Malfoy again, but only the other day she had stupidly decided to tell him it would never happen again. Not that he probably wanted to. After all, he'd been the one to call it a mistake.

The past two days had been unbearable; Malfoy had said nothing to her, nothing at all, and he'd started to revert back to being an arse. He shot her dirty looks whenever he could; every single time she looked over at him he was scowling at her. She started avoiding looking at the Slytherin table at mealtimes because she just couldn't stand to feel him glaring at her hatefully.

It was worse when they were both working at their desks in the common room; the silence was nearly crippling and it seemed Malfoy spent more time shooting daggers at her than he did working. She was starting to think he only ever sat at his work desk to annoy her.

It was becoming hard for her to be so distant to Malfoy when it was all she could do to quell the part of her that wanted to throw herself at him and undress him – what was _wrong_ with her?! But she simply couldn't let it happen again. She had to do the right thing and stay away from him… even if currently the right thing felt completely and totally wrong.

On Friday evening Hermione visited Hagrid, but he had little to tell her and she had even less she wanted to tell him. She mentioned that Theo had broken up with her and Hagrid expressed his sympathies, but it was a quiet visit. Hermione knew she must have seemed subdued because Hagrid asked her repeatedly if she was alright, to which she replied, more forcefully each time, that she was, which was a lie. Fortunately for her he didn't press the conversation further, and Hermione hoped he assumed that she was down because of the break-up. The fact was though, that it barely bothered her anymore. There were much bigger problems for her to contend with.

Hermione left early because she had to patrol with Malfoy tonight, something she'd been dreading since she'd been well enough to get back to lessons. She braved the weather once more as she walked across the grounds – it was still a torrential downpour. The rain came down in grey sheets, falling from what seemed like every direction, even somehow from underneath, which should have soaked her through. However, she'd been smart and cast a Water-Repelling Charm on herself, so she didn't get wet.

The rain prevented her from seeing much of the grounds though and it made her feel uneasy. She wished she had someone to walk her back to the castle. Thunder boomed and rolled out across the grounds, and flashes of lighting often split the sky, adding to her discomfort. She was glad when she reached the castle.

She arrived at the Divination Tower – where she was due to meet Malfoy – much quicker than she'd expected, but even though she was a little early he was already waiting there for her.

Malfoy looked as bored as he'd always used to when he was kept waiting; his chin was tilted proudly up, he was leaning lazily against the stone wall and he was staring blankly off into the distance. But despite his current façade of returning to his old self, Hermione knew he was a little different.

With his dark stares and scowls that had made Hermione feel so anxious over the past few days, she knew Malfoy was attempting to get back to who he had used to be since she'd told him point blank that they wouldn't be having sex again. Yet the fact that he so obviously had to force himself to become an arrogant prick again made her feel slightly warm and comforted. She didn't say anything though, and neither did he; they were both too good at acting like everything was normal.

"You're early," she remarked casually by way of greeting as she approached him.

Evidently, he hadn't noticed her approach because his eyes snapped up at the sound of her voice. He abandoned his bored look and plastered on a scowl. Hermione's heart started racing; she felt anxious again now his intense scrutiny was upon her once more. Malfoy stood up from against the wall and stuck his hands in the pockets of his robes.

"How observant of you," he drawled sarcastically. "I think I'm beginning to understand how you got so many O's in your O.W.L.'s."

His cold derision, yet another attempt at being sixth-year-Malfoy, was laced with unnecessary and underlying venom that Hermione detected but did not mention. Taking a calming breath, she forced herself not to snap back at him.

"Let's go, shall we?" she said instead.

Malfoy didn't reply, but jerked his head in what Hermione supposed was a nod and stalked off. She followed him then drew up alongside him, matching his pace.

Perhaps a few months ago, she might have found the lengthy silence that now enveloped them awkward, but intense silences of unbelievably stifling tension happened so often between them now that she was starting to become desensitised to them. It wasn't that she didn't feel uncomfortable – oh, she did – but unlike their first few patrols together, she didn't feel compelled to fix it by making conversation.

But even her reluctance to try to remedy the strangling atmosphere didn't prevent her from becoming more and more anxious and irritated when she noticed Malfoy doing his staring again. Something about his grey eyes and the way they bored into her made her feel so uneasy that it was maddening. They walked and walked, up staircases, through narrow corridors and wide passageways, but almost all the time Hermione could feel his gaze piercing her.

She finally snapped after thirty minutes of complete unease.

"Stop glaring at me, Malfoy."

* * *

><p>Oh shit. She'd noticed then. But he hadn't exactly been subtle, had he? Draco hadn't been able to help staring at her because he was so angry at her and she made him so sad but he was just so happy to be around her… His messy mix of emotions drew his eyes to her without his consent. But he supposed he could have been <em>a bit<em> less obvious.

He should say something. But everything he wanted to say to her was too pathetic. He wanted to beg her to let him crawl back into her bed; all he wanted was to just touch her again, to feel her squirm and shake because of him. He wanted to feel her around him and underneath him; he wanted to fuck her, right now. No, actually… he'd have settled for a kiss. Anything for just a taste of her. She was so addictive. But of course, he couldn't _say_ any of that. His pride wouldn't allow him to show her how weak she made him.

"Don't flatter yourself, Granger. Why would I bother 'glaring' at you?" he spat, forcing a derisive tone and his trademark smirk. "You aren't exactly much to glare at."

Draco knew it was overly vicious, but he couldn't help but want to hurt her. The minute he chose to give in to and admit his craving for Granger had been the exact one when she had chosen to deny him of her touch in the future. He felt cheated. She deserved to be hurt. Except, the very thought that he was hurting her made him want to rip off his own head.

Granger blushed and it made Draco's mouth twist up a little – she looked so good when she was flushed. He forced his face back to deadpan as Granger's eyes flashed furiously.

"That's funny," she snapped, looking around to ensure they were alone and causing her curls to whip about, "because you didn't seem to think that the other night."

She'd got him there. In all honesty, she really was worth looking at; his eyes were drawn to her all the time, not just recently. When she blushed, or when she got frustrated, or when she was concentrating particularly hard on something, she just seemed to ooze a golden glow of beauty. He'd often glance over to her at mealtimes when no-one was looking just because he liked to look at her. It was only recently that his stares had taken on a hardness as he channeled his pent up frustration. But if she wasn't going to let him near her again, what was the point of admitting all of that?

Draco snorted softly, feigning amused arrogance though his eyes contained no gleam of mirth. "You believe that then."

She scowled deeply at him and he smirked back at her. Then she looked away.

"And you _were _staring at me," she spat heatedly after a moment.

He didn't say anything and they carried on walking in a silence that seemed to crackle with hidden animosity. Granger made him so furious and frustrated, but even with all that he couldn't shake off his desire to just push her into an empty classroom and ravage her… His eyes flicked automatically back to her as he considered this but unfortunately she caught him looking.

"Stop it!" she demanded angrily, coming to a standstill in the middle of the empty corridor.

The torchlight coming from all around lit up her infuriated face and the spark of fury glinting in each of her pupils. Damn it. He really was a sucker for her eyes.

"Piss off, Granger," he snapped, stopping too. "It's a free country. I'm only looking at you."

"I don't care! I don't like it," Granger replied.

Exasperation flared within him; she was such a confusing witch. Draco stepped closer to her but she backed away warily. He continued to advance on her until her back was against the corridor wall and he was leaning over her petite frame. She glared defiantly at him and it made his heart race.

"Why?" he asked devilishly. "Do I make you uncomfortable?"

Draco's face was barely an inch from Granger's now. He smiled his trademark smirk, but this time he wasn't putting it on to seem arrogant. She was lying. She must be lying; she didn't answer him and looked down. He tilted his head so that he almost had his lips pressed to Granger's right ear and pressed his left hand against the rough stone, trapping her beneath him.

"Don't spin me that crap about not liking me looking, Granger," he breathed into her ear as he trailed one finger of his free hand down her waist. "You love it when I look. You love it when I touch too."

Indeed, it seemed so; Draco felt her shudder when his wandering digit met her hip and started drawing circles there. Suddenly, he grabbed her and pressed himself against her, pushing her into the wall and into him. At long last, she looked back at him, those chocolate eyes sending embers dancing all over his body. He lightly kissed just below her earlobe and Granger sighed quietly.

"See. You're a bad liar," he mumbled into her ear.

He tilted up her chin and pressed his forehead to hers. It felt so good to touch her skin again, even if it wasn't quite as much skin as he'd have liked. Their lips were barely a hair's breadth apart and he could feel her ragged breaths tickling his. He was sure that if he pressed an ear to her chest right now, he'd feel her heart hammering just like his was. How could she force herself to stay away from him if she so clearly longed for him? Her body's reaction was enough to convince him of that.

"And you aren't as clever as you think you are either."

Draco pressed his lips to hers for the fewest of seconds and then to his dismay, he was pushed back.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Granger asked, a tad sourly.

Draco began to kiss his way down her jaw_. Thank Merlin for deserted corridors_, he thought.

"You think you don't want me, but you clearly do."

Her little shiver of delight backed up his point.

"You say we can't be with each other again," he said, through small kisses on her soft lips, "but you know you want to… I can tell that you want to… you want me, Granger."

He tried to capture her lips once more, but she pushed and struggled against him, denying him the pleasure of her kiss but rubbing her clothed body against him exquisitely. He suppressed a groan.

"And why do you care if I do?"

Granger looked a little disgruntled. Draco was confused. Did she want him to admit that he wanted her too? But he couldn't do that…. He couldn't allow himself to become that weak in front of her; he was still a Malfoy after all, and a damn proud one at that. Then again, maybe it would be enough for her if he just lied and said he didn't, but he'd be willing to offer himself to her anyway. If Granger desired him as much as he thought she did, she'd probably take that.

"I don't care. I just want to help you out," he said.

Only a fraction of a second after the words had come out of his mouth, Draco knew they were the wrong ones. It sounded so much more callous out loud and Granger looked like she'd just been winded. He had to fix this, now.

"No, I'm sorry… I didn't mean-"

"I know what you meant," Granger hissed, yanking his hands off her and pushing him away. "But maybe it's _you _who isn't as clever as you think, because I _don't _want you."

She stalked off down the corridor.

Her retort nearly choked him, except she hadn't sounded fully certain of her own words. Draco clung to the hope that she was lying.

"Stop kidding yourself!" he yelled after her, sounding slightly angrier than he'd intended.

Draco followed her at a run, but Granger hadn't gotten that far ahead anyway. He grabbed her by the left wrist and whirled her around to face him.

"If you don't want me, why do you shudder when I touch you? Why do you kiss me? Why did you let me take your virginity?" he gabbled desperately, almost pleadingly. So much for not seeming weak.

And then Granger slapped him. Stinging shot through his cheek just like that time in third year, only now he felt pain on the inside too. Granger's nostrils were flaring and she was breathing heavily. Her usually lovely face was red and twisted in anger, and she looked like she was on the brink of crying. Her right hand still hovered in mid-air.

Draco let go of her other hand and touched the cheek she'd hit.

"Shut up!" Granger snarled. "It doesn't matter, none of that matters, because you don't care about it. You just said. And I don't care either, not about you. I'm glad we're finally on the same page."

She choked and a few tears began to fall down her cheeks. Draco took a step back. He felt like he was drowning.

"Well if we both don't care then, maybe we shouldn't speak anymore," Draco said hollowly, his words stemming from the pain of her rejection. "There's no point, is there? You're right, clearly everything that's happened between us have been mistakes."

Granger nodded. "Fine," she muttered bitterly.

Then she walked off, away from Draco to the other end of the hallway, probably to go back to their room. Before she turned the corner though, she turned back with a tear-stained face, looked him straight in the eyes and said, "Fine."


	30. Apology

**A/N- Cloud nine this week! Got my GCSE results and I got A*s in everything! (That's the top grade possible if you're from elsewhere in the world). Nicole did brilliantly too, and now we're both off to college. In fact, I just got back from enrolling now :')**

**Such a good mood and I love that this is the chapter we're sharing with you this week. We love this chapter. As always, thanks for the lovely feedback - WE HIT 300 REVIEWS OMGASDFGHJKLVD! - thanks to MrsBates93 for being a lovely beta, and reviews are wonderful and sunny and make me even happier than I already am. **

* * *

><p><em>"Fine." <em>

Draco didn't think one word had ever hurt him so much.

_"Fine." _

Was that all he deserved? One word and a begrudging one at that? Four stupid little letters was the best he got after everything?

He'd been a prick – he would be the first to admit it. He'd thought that maybe Granger had a bit more fight left in her, that she'd have objected to him suggesting that they stopped speaking. Or that maybe she might have confessed to wanting him after all, like he longed to hear.

He guessed not now, because he'd even managed to royally fuck that up. How could he have thought that pretending to be heartless would make Granger settle for him? Hermione Granger, _settle?_ She was all heart, and too good for him by far. He was so stupid. He really was shit at this whole 'liking-someone' thing.

The problem was that for so long, Draco had formed a mental barrier between physical acts like sex and his feelings. But now, Granger had somehow managed to break it down with her beautiful body and whole aura of goodness. Maybe some of it was starting to rub off on him, Draco thought, and then he laughed sourly out loud at the ludicrous idea.

Perhaps it actually was though. Things about his life that he'd once felt he knew with absolute certainty were now morphing beyond his recognition ever since he and Granger had started sharing a dorm. Even sex was different now. Sleeping with Granger hadn't felt like fucking, which was what he usually did. It had felt like making love, as much as that made his stomach churn. There was a big difference.

The lonely walk back to the common room without Granger was horrible. Draco had stood solemnly and silently for a long time after she'd marched off, filling slowly up with an unspeakable rage at himself for ruining things _again. _It had been so damn quiet.

Then without warning, he'd shattered the silence with a roar of fury and had split his knuckles by punching the wall. They were still bleeding now as he walked, torn to shreds by the harsh stone as he'd worked out his rage in the only way he knew how, much to the alarm of watching portraits.

He stumbled onwards towards the dorm, vaguely aware of the trail of blood he was leaving behind him. He pulled out his wand and absently healed himself.

Draco hated how much his mood fluctuated nowadays. Before Granger, his mood never changed much: a cold exterior, a cold inside melded with some underlying sadness that was better repressed. Sometimes he got mad, occasionally he laughed, but other than that it was predictable, wonderful monotony.

But now… oh, now everything was so different. In the space of a day Draco knew he could go from hating Granger for being a tease to being angry at her, to being overwhelmed with satisfaction because she'd let him get close to depressed when she pushed him away. It was exhausting.

He found that he missed her whenever she wasn't around. There was a small dull ache in the pit of his stomach if she wasn't nearby and he didn't bother questioning it; he noticed a part of him getting habitually angry but it was better to just not think about it.

It was about midnight when he got back to the dorm and the lion and the snake in the portrait were both asleep. With a groan of irritation, Draco thumped on the canvas and mumbled the password as the creatures jerked awake – the lion roared and the snake hissed angrily as he closed the portrait with a soft smack.

The stumps of a few candles remained ablaze softly around the room though the majority had burned out. They gave out enough light that Draco could see but not so much that the room was bright. He could see no light filtering out from underneath Granger's closed door so he assumed she'd gone to bed. Her cloak was strewn messily on the back of the sofa like she'd thrown it off angrily; she normally hung it up on the left hook on the coat rack next to Draco's. Shit. He only realised now how much he knew about her little habits; he really was getting in too deep.

He wandered over and picked it up, almost holding it close to him and hugging it in case it smelled like her, but he stopped himself before he stooped that pathetically low. Instead, he shrugged off his own and walked over to the coat rack where he hung them up, together, where they belonged.

He should go to sleep. Bed was calling him – his eyes felt heavy and itchy and he ached for rest – but lately, actually falling into a deep slumber was hard. His sleep was fitful and light and he never felt fully refreshed when he woke.

As he walked to his room, he wondered if tonight he might finally get a decent night's sleep… but then decided that that was hardly likely since he had so much shit on his mind.

Granger's screams stopped him before he even got halfway to his door. He tensed. _For fuck's sake_, he thought. She'd been quiet for the past two nights… Draco had thought she might have got past her nightmares.

As angry as he was at her, he couldn't help but wince as her cries tore through him. They were so tortured, so agonising… he couldn't just sit through them like last time.

A thought struck him. He strode into his room and returned a few seconds later with a large bottle in his hands. Marching over to Granger's door, he tried to ignore her shrieks as they continued to rip through him and chill his blood.

He rapped loudly on the door. No answer and still she screamed. He tried again but the same thing happened. Panic began to creep over him; he couldn't listen to her all night, not again, he'd go mad… it hurt too much.

"Bloody hell," he mumbled as he tried the door handle. Of course, she'd locked it.

Once more, he tried to rouse her.

"Granger!" he called, as he banged his fists against the wood. "Open the door!"

There was a lull in her yells and Draco hoped that he'd woken her. He knocked again just in case. The sounds echoed around the suddenly quiet inside of the room.

After a minute, he heard the lock click. He took a half step back as the door opened.

Granger looked at him questioningly, her face red and confused. Her hair was messy and she was gasping for air but still Draco had to force himself not to notice how good she looked in her pyjamas.

"Here," he said without preamble.

He held out the bottle; it contained the last of his personal stash of Dreamless Sleep potion that his mother had sent him last year because of his own nightmares. He'd been saving it for an emergency, but as far as he was concerned, this was one.

Granger stared cagily at the purple bottle in his hands like it was about to explode. But then to Draco's great relief she reached out and took it.

"There's about two weeks' worth of it in there as long as you don't take too much at a time," he advised. "Then you'll have to see about getting some more… maybe Madam Pomfrey will give you some, I don't know. Just… just please make sure you take it, alright?"

She stared at him suspiciously and then nodded, clutching the bottle tightly to her chest.

Draco took another step back. "This doesn't change anything, Granger."

Once more she surveyed him with narrow eyes and a furrowed brow for a few moments, and then she shook her head sadly and closed the door on him. He heard the lock click again as she shut herself away from him. Draco breathed a sigh of relief and tried not to think about why she'd looked a little sad. He probably should have apologised. But as much as he wanted to grovel at her feet, he wouldn't be doing that anytime soon.

He went back to his room and got ready for bed, keeping his ears trained to pick up the sounds of Granger yelling. They didn't come. He crawled into bed, relishing the silence, and stared at his ceiling like he knew he'd be doing for the next few hours. It wouldn't even matter now if he couldn't get to sleep; at least he wouldn't have to hear her scream.

* * *

><p>Hermione didn't know why she'd gotten so sad after she had shut Malfoy out of her room. Maybe she'd thought that he'd come to apologise, or say something remotely nice to her to make up for how much of a twat he'd been during rounds. After all, he'd made her cry, and it had been a long time since he'd last done that. He'd just poked at a sore spot on her conscience - the fact that shehad given her virginity to him, something she wasn't entirely sure that she was happy with just yet. Instead, he'd dropped off the potion (<em>and probably for selfish reasons<em>, she thought, _so he could get to sleep without her shouts disturbing him_) and then told her that it didn't change anything; evidently, that meant he still wanted them to refrain from speaking to each other.

Why couldn't he have just said sorry? She'd have accepted it in an instant, as sad as that was. Ignoring him would be horrible. It always was.

He was so dense... how could he have believed her when she said she didn't want him? Of course she did. She just hated that it was true.

She'd lied out of anger because he'd been so cocky in his assumption of the truth - he'd frustrated her. And then to tell her that he didn't particularly want her anyway, just that he'd be willing to shag her because she wanted to... Oh God, she'd nearly strangled him. She'd settled for slapping him instead, but it hadn't been enough. He might have become a little nicer recently, but deep down he was obviously still the same arrogant arsehole. Hermione felt like a fool.

The pathetic thing was that she was beginning to get so desperate for him that she really did think that she might give into him soon, regardless of whether he gave a toss about her or not. There was just something about him that made all of her resolutions crumble. He made her so angry and confused, but for some insane reason, her fury fueled her passion for him. Hermione hated him, but Merlin she wanted him.

The weekend passed, and Hermione ignored Malfoy like he'd said. He didn't speak to her either, and he even gave up his glaring. Reluctant though she was to do it, because it was Malfoy who had given it to her, Hermione drank the Dreamless Sleep Potion on both nights, gladly welcoming the nothingness over the night-time visions she'd come to fear.

Monday was much the same, only with lessons thrown into the mix to add to her frustration; she couldn't avoid Malfoy's cold shoulder there. Banishing the dreams might have left her well rested, but her growing desperation for Malfoy ruined all the good her sleep had done.

Every time she caught a glimpse of him she remembered the way his hard body had rubbed against hers in the corridor; the way his lips felt on hers; the way his hands touched her sensitive, naked skin... it was torture. Ginny, for once, said nothing about Hermione's disturbed state of mind; it was probably obvious in the way she spent most of her time zoned out of reality, or in the way her face stayed generally blank, or even from the fact that she didn't say one word all day. Hermione might have been glad of Ginny's rare tactfulness if only she had been aware of what was going on around her enough to appreciate it. Malfoy continuously invaded her mind and muddied her senses instead.

By Thursday, Hermione was spending all of her free time in the library, under the guise of completing a mounting pile of Head Girl duties and N.E.W.T. work. It was actually because she couldn't bear to see Malfoy anymore. He simply acted like she did not exist - like he couldn't see her at all. He hadn't looked at her once since Friday night and when they were on rounds - when Hermione had hoped he might be forced to speak to her again - he acted as if he were totally alone.

She felt rather like a drug addict. Being cut off from Malfoy and his infuriating mood swings, his bad temper, his stares and his silly insults, was killing her. And it only added to her thirst for him. She needed to talk to him, touch him, yell at him, just... something, _anything_, to ease the burn of her want.

Yet somehow, she retained a sense of herself underneath her slow descent into madness. She took a dose of the potion on Thursday night, basking in the emptiness of her sleep, but on Friday morning as she went into the bathroom for her shower she emptied the rest of it away. There was enough in there for another week, just like Malfoy had said, but Hermione being Hermione knew that there was a danger to a prolonged usage period of such a potent concoction. Addiction was common, and she decided it was just one more problem she would not like to have to contend with.

So, it was with a pounding heart and a brain gripped with fear that Hermione settled down for bed one week after Malfoy had first given her the potion.

She was right to be afraid.

* * *

><p><em>The same familiar scenario of that invisible, terrifying nonentity chasing her and eating her up greets her. As always she tries to keep ahead of it, but it's futile, and then it engulfs her and she's drowning. <em>

_She's plunged into a cold so fierce it's like ice water and then she catches a sight of something pure and luminous shining through the nothing. The sight of it gives her hope, briefly gives her the sense that she is safe, that it is guarding her. Then it's gone. _

_"Wait!"_

_As always, pain rips through her when she sits up. The forest again; the undergrowth beneath her, canopy above her and the stench of decay in her nostrils. Through the dense, overhanging green ahead of her, she catches that elusive glimpse of white once more. It's still dark, but the black is tinged with the eerie emerald glow of the moonlight on the trees that surround her, trap her, isolate her. _

_"Wait!" she calls out desperately again. _

_It doesn't listen. _

_She must get to it. It will save her. She runs after the sliver of silver, pushing past branches and thorns that tear her robes and then her skin to tatters. She continues to chase it but her prey never slows in its relentless task of trying to escape her – why must he always try to leave? – and she can't catch up. _

_It's cold. Her goosebumps are testament to that. But the cold seems to come from her insides, not from the forest. _

_She doesn't know how long she chases it for – why won't he just wait for her? – but she can't catch it. It's impossible. Just as she thinks this, she crashes into something tall and dark, topped with a flash of white, like a snow-capped mountain. She tumbles to the ground. _

_It's the thing, him. She's caught him. Why is she on the ground still? Won't he help her? _

_She reaches out a hand for him to help her to her feet, but he stands frozen on the spot. _

_"What do you want?" she asks, unsure of why she says it. _

_Still, the figure stands silent and tall – why can't he just tell her what he wants? – and it is beginning to unnerve her. Even beneath the cloak that hoods his features, she fancies she can see his eyes, grey like smoke. He doesn't move for quite some time, and then to her relief he extends a hand. _

_But the hand isn't to pull her up- it is clutched around his wand and then before she can even ask him why, that white hot agony she is so terribly familiar with tears through her, cutting her from the inside out. Her brain is going to explode out of her head, her eyeballs are melting and there's fire, fire, fire in her lungs and her gut and her limbs… her nails claw at her skin, drawing blood which soon coats her as she pathetically attempts to rip off the parts of her that hurt… And still, the silver-haired man does not relent, but stands blankly, unfeelingly, and watches as she writhes in pain. _

_But the part of her that hurts the most is not even her body, but her heart. Why him? Why must _he _be the one to do this to her?_

* * *

><p>Loud banging sounds were what jolted Hermione out of the fresh hell that was her returning nightmare - now back with an apparent vengeance - just like this time last week. As always when she awoke, her heart was still hammering so much that she was surprised she couldn't see it bouncing out of her chest. She was shaking and gasping for breath. Her face was wet with tears she'd shed while trapped in her own mind. The room was still dark, so there was no way it was time to get up. Her eyes rapidly adjusted to the low light, and she checked the clock on her bedside table. It was three forty-seven in the morning.<p>

More bangs. She sat bolt upright in bed and threw off the covers that had twisted themselves around her, probably because she'd been thrashing around in them. That was generally what happened. A glow streamed in through the window, cast by a half moon; she hadn't bothered to close her curtains and never usually did. Bathed in silver light, she slipped off her bed. The world outside her covers was cold, and colder still now that Hermione was plastered all over in a freezing sweat.

Still the banging came as she padded barefoot across the icy wooden floor, across the room to her door, the source of the noise. With a still-shaking hand, she turned the brass key in the door she habitually locked, but before she had time to open it herself the handle had turned and Malfoy swept inside. She took a few steps back.

He looked every bit the terrifying insomniac. Evidently he hadn't been able to sleep; for some odd reason he was still fully clothed in a button up shirt and jeans, and his eyes were heavily lidded and red. They screamed fury at her now, but that didn't stop her from feeling inappropriately happy that he wasn't pretending she didn't exist anymore. What a pleasant side effect to not taking the potion... _Oh_ _dear Lord_, she thought. Had she really just stooped to self-inflicted misery in order to get the attention of Malfoy? She must be completely off her rocker.

"What the hell, Granger?!" Malfoy fumed.

His tired grey eyes were wide and incensed and somehow sad, and he was looking at her like he wanted to throttle her.

"I told you to be careful with the doses! You weren't supposed to use it all in a week!" he yelled.

She only barely understood why he might be angry because the dreams always left her so exhausted and her thoughts so muddled. Was he pissed off that she'd disturbed whatever he'd been doing that obviously hadn't been sleeping?

"I didn't use it all," she rasped, her throat predictably dry and raw from all her sleep-screaming.

"Then, pray tell: why haven't you taken it?" he snapped sarcastically.

"I threw it away."

For two seconds, Malfoy stood still with his mouth hanging open. Her benign statement changed his scowl to a look of exasperation and then back again. Then he ran his hands through his already messy hair and over his face.

"Why did you do that?" he asked quietly, his voice muffled because his hands were resting over his mouth.

Somehow, his soft tone was worse than his yelling, because it sounded nearly painful. It stabbed at a part of Hermione's heart.

"I didn't want it anymore. You can get addicted to it if you take it for too long, and I didn't want that to happen-"

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Hermione?!" Malfoy exploded.

His rage finally scared her. He closed the gap between them in one single stride and gripped her clammy, damp shoulders hard. He shook her lightly but it was enough to make her head rattle.

"I gave you something to stop you from getting so disturbed in the night, to help you, and then you decide you'd rather spend every night screaming your head off rather than sleeping soundly? _Who gives a fuck_ whether you get addicted to it or not? As long as you don't sound like you're being tortured every night, who gives a shit?"

His untamed outrage made her want to cry and scream apologies at him, but even so Hermione couldn't help but just relish the sensation of him touching her again after a week of nothing.

"Why would you do that?! You just... ugh!" he cried, letting go of her, much to her dismay, and he interlocked his hands behind his head, bringing his elbows together and grunting in irritation.

He turned on his heel in a circle then stopped, facing her once more. She decided to just let him vent.

"Don't you know how difficult it is for me to listen to you? Just listen, and not be able to do a damn thing about it except wait for it to stop? It never stops, Hermione. You can scream for hours. Why do you think I gave you that potion in the first place? Because it was the only thing I _could_ do to help you, and now you've stopped me from even doing that!"

Hermione knew she should be mad at him for bursting into her room and screaming at her, but she couldn't muster up any aggression. She was just so lamentably glad he was speaking to her... and apparently, that he cared if she was in distress.

Malfoy cared.

He cared enough to help her. He cared enough that when he couldn't fix what hurt her, it pained him.

_He cared_.

Which meant he'd lied to her last week when he'd said he didn't. Hermione had never been so happy to have been lied to.

"You're so stupid, do you know that?" Malfoy was saying now, no longer yelling because apparently he had let most of his frustration out. "How can you be so clever and so stupid at the same time?"

Malfoy stared at her, his peppery eyes searching her face for something, and so full of anguish that it nearly choked her. She wanted to comfort him so she did the only thing she could think of and kissed him.

Hermione knew she needed this, and from the way Malfoy kissed her back it was apparent that he did too. Going without him for so long had not made her feelings about him go away, but intensified them. She felt like she was melting into him and his hand crept into her hair, bunching up in her brown curls as his other hand grabbed her hip and thrust them together. She slid her arms up and around his neck, locking onto it and pulling his head even closer to hers.

They stumbled back together and when Hermione's legs hit her bed she allowed herself to fall back onto the crumpled sheets, and Malfoy fell with her. His weight as he landed on her was delicious. Hermione knew that that tonight, there would be no messing around, no build up, no pauses. They both craved this too much to waste any time with what was not entirely necessary.

His tongue slipped into her mouth and began to explore it; she delved into his in response and began feverishly tasting every crevice of his mouth she could reach. He tasted like honey and lemon, he always did. His lips were velvet, crushing against hers; he pulled her bottom lip into his mouth and sucked it gently. She whimpered. He was such a bloody good kisser.

Malfoy pressed himself on top of her and she started pulling at his pale blue shirt. So many _fucking_ buttons... After fighting with it for a few seconds too many, she pulled on it and with a huge ripping sound, she tore it off him.

He started sucking on her neck at just the right spot, that sensitive bit below her ear, and she bit down softly on his shoulder. He hissed. Would he leave a love bite on her neck? For some reason, the thought of that aroused Hermione beyond belief - it would be like he had branded her in one of the most erotic ways that she could think of.

She sighed lightly when she felt Malfoy's hand stroke her through the damp crotch of her pyjama pants; in response, it seemed, his length twitched and she felt it press into her thigh.

There was no languid, decadent removal of the rest of their clothing, just as Hermione had anticipated. The items were discarded roughly in a haze of kissing and tasting and licking of exposed flesh everywhere the both of them could reach. Unlike the last time, when it had felt more like she was standing on the edge of a bottomless abyss about to throw herself into it, this time getting naked with Malfoy felt like the most natural thing in the world. The pit of her stomach felt like a tensed spring of aching desire. Malfoy's rough kisses and soft caresses were driving her wild... she wanted him inside of her, right now.

She loved the way it felt when they were both naked. The way his bare skin rubbed against hers, his milky flesh brushing her breasts, her stomach, his hands on her inner thighs... he made every single one of her nerve endings feel like they'd been ignited and he made her head spin.

As he nipped lightly at her neck - oh, she liked it when he did that - she felt his cock brush against her stomach. She wriggled beneath him instinctively, wanting him to plunge it into her, trying to get closer to it. Malfoy shivered.

"Don't do that," he groaned, latching his mouth rather hungrily to her left nipple.

Hermione moaned with delight as his tongue flicked over her breast. But she wanted him now.

She reached down, between her and him, running her hand over as much flesh as she could on the way, including down that thin trail of golden blonde hair on his abdomen, from his belly button to his length. Summoning her Gryffindor courage, she wrapped her hand around it and squeezed slightly.

Hermione felt him shudder and jerk above her and he grunted animalistically. She decided she liked that sound. She wanted to hear it again, so once more she tightened her hand a little. But then _his_ hand clamped down like a vice over her wrist and pulled her hand off him and up over her head. Seconds later, he grabbed the other arm and had both of her hands pinned above her, held tightly in only one of his own.

"I told you not to do that!" he muttered angrily.

"Why?"

Suddenly she felt worried. Had she done something wrong?

"Because if you carry on, I'll end up coming all over your leg!" he snapped.

The thought that just rubbing her skin or her hand on him made it so difficult for him to control himself filled her with something akin to twisted pleasure. She arched her back so her breasts rubbed against his chest.

"Then do something about it," she teased.

His mouth quirked into a smirk that matched her own, and this time he didn't ask her permission; still holding her arms up, he thrust himself inside of her.

Hermione cried out as her body stretched to accompany him. She felt impossibly full, whole, content. She needed her hands though... she wanted to touch him and grab onto his flesh and squeeze it to relieve the tension that she could already feel building.

Like she'd predicted, Malfoy didn't work his way up this time with slow, teasing strokes, and she was so glad. He pushed into her, hard, over and over again for blissfully long minutes that felt like hours, his pelvis smacking into Hermione and making a satisfying sound. His movements jolted and jostled her and made it so much better, and she was drowning in the smell of liquorice and lemon and salty sweat...

That spring inside of her was tightening more, beyond what she thought possible. Malfoy was demonstrating impeccable control - his screwed up face and the sheen of sweat clinging to his chest and the white blonde hairs on his arms were testament to that - despite the fact that Hermione was sure he must have wanted to let himself go a long time since. But it was beginning to end now, and he must have sensed it because he started to move even faster.

Her muscles were starting to twitch and her toes curled up in anticipation. She wanted her arms back, not because her wrists were going numb in Malfoy's strong grip, but because she wanted to grab his head and kiss him.

And then pure warmth began to spread in an explosion of ecstasy as the spring was released, the heat unfurling from her abdomen all around the rest of her body, and she felt herself clench around Malfoy, and at that point, simultaneously, they both climaxed. Hermione wailed and Malfoy groaned, and somehow, knowing that he had come at the same time as she had made it so much better.

Malfoy collapsed onto her, still buried inside of her and with his head on her breast, as her body continued to tremble. She felt flushed and the warmth continued to spread, and now that Malfoy had let go of her hands she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer.

Slowly, the wave of her release began to ebb away. Hermione was barely aware that she'd been stroking Malfoy's hair as he lay on top of her, gulping air down as his breathing returned to normal and his heart, pounding against her chest, began to slow back down. Her wrists felt sore from having been held so tight for so long.

She didn't feel panicked or worried or... well, anything this time, except sated and pleasantly fulfilled.

She'd needed that. She really had. No; they both had.

Malfoy sat up and Hermione allowed her hands to slide off his slick flesh. Now that her glow was beginning to dissipate, she felt slightly embarrassed by her nudity. While Malfoy began picking up his clothes, she located and pulled on her pyjamas.

Once dressed, Hermione turned around, expecting to see Malfoy slipping out of the door again. Instead, she found herself face to face with his strong, muscular and surprisingly bare chest. He was so warm and he smelled like that same tantalising mix of citrus and liquorice as he always did. Hermione knew she and her bed would be drenched in that scent right now.

To her complete bewilderment and total delight, his arms slipped around her waist and then he leaned down and gently kissed her on the mouth. His tongue delicately traced her bottom lip, so slowly that she felt like time had stopped. He squeezed her tight, pulling her close as he trapped her lips between his. Then he reluctantly pulled back, like he was savouring the feeling of their lips together.

Hermione felt dizzy. She was blinking a little more than she thought was normal as she tried to pull herself out of her daze. Then she felt something being pressed into her hand, something soft. She looked down to see baby-blue fabric now bunched up in her fist; the remains of Malfoy's shirt, the shirt she'd ripped in her haste to pull it off him. She blushed a little.

"You might as well keep this," he said tenderly, his soft cadence almost like thick cream. "It's ruined now anyway."

She knew that it would be easy enough to fix with a simple _Reparo,_ but she said nothing. His giving it to her seemed to symbolise something that Hermione couldn't quite grasp. Then Malfoy placed his hands on either cheek and kissed her forehead. He pressed his nose to her, like he was trying to say something with the gesture.

Then suddenly, Hermione got it. This was his strange way of apologising. He wanted her, he knew she knew it, and this was his odd attempt at saying sorry for a week of being a prick and lying before that.

"Goodnight, Granger."

He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, gently stroking it and touching her for the last time tonight, and then he walked out of her room and closed the door behind him.

Hermione hugged the torn shirt close and decided that she quite liked his apologies.


	31. Library

**A/N - I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry. **

**As you are quite clearly aware, weekly uploads have been abandoned. I literally have no time anymore between my social life, so-called love life and college, and I haven't managed to write a full chapter in three weeks which is quite literally insane. So, I'm afraid from now on, uploads come if and when I can manage them. I AM NOT ABANDONING MY FIC, I SWEAR. I just can't be as generous with the updates as I could. **

**Thanks as always to my wonderful beta, MrsBates93, Nicolio, and you guys who review. I'll see you at some point in the future. **

* * *

><p>His swagger was back.<p>

Somehow, Draco realised as he practically bounced down the corridor, the strut he had been mastering all his life had been restored to him after its recent disappearance. It must have been Granger. Draco knew it must have hadsomething to do with the overwhelming and peculiar sense of achievement he felt after beingwith her again.

He smirked; just thinking about it made his body tingle at the memory. They hadn't needed any words last night, not really, but there had still been some pretty clear revelations. They both wanted each other – perhaps even needed each other – and that was as plain as day. And now, Draco was revelling in that notion.

The smug look of satisfaction was still stuck on his face as he sauntered into the Great Hall for breakfast. The benches at each house table were dotted with students, though clearly some were still asleep or were finding other ways to spend their Saturday morning. The ceiling showed that the sky outside was a crisp, clear blue. Draco felt like today would be a good day for once.

He strode over to where Blaise was sat at their usual spot at the Slytherin table. His friend was quiet and looked a little lost, but the minute Draco clapped a firm hand on his shoulder and said: "Morning Blaise," his face lit up.

"Good morning to you too, ferret," Blaise replied with a smile.

Draco immediately seized a piece of toast and began to eat it dry while loading his plate up with scrambled eggs and bacon with his free hand. His appetite, which for the past week had almost completely eluded him, had returned with gusto along with his ability to sleep. Draco had slipped off easily last night after leaving Granger's bed and the few hours of deep sleep he'd managed had invigorated him.

Blaise watched him pile up food with awe.

"Hungry?" he asked.

Draco couldn't speak through a mouthful of food so just nodded enthusiastically.

"Makes a change."

Blaise was right; Draco had essentially been running on coffee and the occasional spoonful of soup for seven days. Draco managed a chuckle despite his full mouth.

"Might I ask what has gotten you into such a sickeningly good mood? Did someone give you a ferret-treat?" he asked jovially.

Draco smiled. _Something like that, _he thought deviously. _It had been a treat._

"I had a decent night's sleep for the first time in ages, that's all," he lied.

"And what else?" grinned Blaise. "I've known you long enough to know that glow you get when you get some, Draco Malfoy. You sure it was just sleep?"

"Yes, you horrific lecher," Draco insisted before attacking his bacon.

Blaise raised an eyebrow and shook his head disbelievingly, and then they lapsed into silence as they ate. Draco allowed the hum of chatter to wash over him. He hadn't felt this good in a while. Somehow, knowing that he wouldn't have to ignore Granger anymore – because after last night, that would be both pointless and impossible – made him feel great. That one week of blanking her had almost killed him.

His snappishness all last week had definitely gotten to the slightly irritable version of Blaise that was his recent reincarnation. Giving up alcohol and going cold turkey had gotten to him and left him very touchy. However he seemed in a better mood than usual today, and to Draco, Saturday seemed to promise nothing but hope, and the buzz of it nearly knocked him silly.

As he stared off into the distance with a stupid half smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, he saw Granger bound in through the double doors at the back of the Hall, where she was jumped upon almost immediately by the Weaselette. Granger breezed over to the same seat he knew she'd sat at for every meal for six and a half years, and Draco's eyes followed her.

Her Gryffindor scarf was wound tightly around her neck above her casual clothes – probably tohidethe pinkish marks that he had left there**,**thought Draco smugly – and her skin was a little flushed and her hair damp because she'd just had her shower.

Draco knew she had, because he'd watched her walk out of her room and into the bathroom this morning. He'd been stood putting his cloak on by the portrait hole and she hadn't even noticed him.

As Draco had been stood there gawking at her in the small space of time it had taken her to get from her room to the bathroom, he'd noticed what she was wearing. Pastel blue, almost the same colour as that fucking _stunning _dress at the Yule Ball. His shirt. Only his shirt.

And the best part was that it was still ripped, torn almost artfully in places so that when she'd had her back to him, Draco could glimpse the creamy flesh of her lovely back peeking out through the fabric. The whole thing practically drowned her and made her look more petite**,** elfin and beautiful. It stopped midway down her thighs, her smooth, pale, lovely thighs that he only caught a brief glance of before the bathroom door blocked his view.

Last night, he hadn't been entirely sure why he'd given her his shirt, other than it had just felt right, or like some weird kind of compensation for him being an arsehole. Now, sat at breakfast and remembering Granger wearing it, he was glad he had.

Draco looked at her walking to her seat across the room from him, now wearing a full set of clothes instead of just his shirt. She still looked wonderful.

As she dropped to take her seat, she glanced over. Granger's eyes met Draco's staring ones for a few seconds and for some reason it made him almost drop his fork. A ghost of a smile graced her features for a moment as one side of her mouth quirked upwards and warmth travelled from her soft pink lips to those eyes of hers. It was a brief gesture that sung of a secret shared between them, and he answered with a shy smile of his own. Then she looked away and sat down while Draco watched the Weaselette stare at her and the connection was broken.

For some reason, Draco felt a small comforting fire ignite in the bottom of his stomach and he couldn't stop anther superior smile from taking over his features as he chewed happily once more. And then he could feel Blaise's eyes cutting into him. Shit. He'd forgotten his friend was even there. He turned to meet the suspicious stare.

"What was that?" Blaise asked mockingly, sounding amused and very curious.

Draco didn't bat an eyelid. He picked up another piece of toast. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"That little… little smirky thing Granger just gave you."

"Blaise, we share a dorm, alright? We work together. So, shock horror, sometimes we smile at each other. Life is a hell of a lot easier when we're nice to each other," said Draco, attempting to move away from the scarily dangerous territory Blaise was heading into.

"But exactly how nice have you been, you dirty boy?" teased Blaise, but there was a note of suspicion to his tone.

His brown eyes narrowed. Draco tried to look bored but a prickle of fear threatened to quell the happy flame in his gut. He said nothing and just rolled his eyes in what he hoped was a casual way.

"You fucked her, didn't you?"

Stone cold panic seized Draco as Blaise's horrifically accurate accusation met his ears. He was definitely not ready for people to know about… well, whatever he was supposed to call this thing he had with Granger, especially since he couldn't even begin to explain it.

"What?!" he spluttered. "Have you lost your mind? I would never – I mean, it's – no!"

Suddenly, Blaise burst out laughing.

"Relax mate! I was just kidding!"

_Oh thank Merlin, _thought Draco_. _Blaise thumped him on the back and continued to chuckle.

"Your face," he grinned. "But, you know, seriously, who have you screwed? Because this kind of stupid happiness does not come from one night of decent sleep. You were a moody bastard for a week and then today you're acting like youjust found out thatyou can shit Galleons."

The question hovered between them for a moment.

"Well, you are the King of Moody Bastards, so I suppose you'd know," Draco replied coolly.

"Very funny. But something's up with you, I can tell."

The only downside to having Blaise return to his almost-usual self was the re-emergence of his perceptiveness. Sometimes, it was downright annoying. Draco needed to be careful.

"Honestly, it's nothing," he protested.

Blaise looked very much like he did not believe Draco at all, but to his great relief his friend didn't say anything in reply.

In the mildly uncomfortable silence that followed, Draco continued to eat, making up for the fact he hadn't had much food for a week. His stomach felt like some kind of bottomless pit. After about ten minutes of silence, he looked around the room and he saw Granger stand up abruptly and sweep out of the hall. He wondered what had made her leave so swiftly when she'd not been here very long at all.

"Oh God. Have you two _still _not gotten over your respective bitch fits yet?" grumbled Blaise.

"What do you mean?" asked Draco, confused.

"Theo's over there staring daggers at you," Blaise replied, giving Draco a poke with his fork. "Have you not kissed and made up yet? Not that I'd like to be around to see that, mind you."

Draco shook his head. "He's the one being a prick, not me," he answered indignantly.

"Draco, you're always a prick."

Draco threw a piece of toast at him.

"But speaking of our friend Mr Nott over there, you missed quite the hilarious spectacle last night," said Blaise. "We do miss you down in the dungeons, ferret. Now that Granger has your balls in a vice and you're running around being all important and setting an example, you miss all the good stuff."

Draco knew he would take Granger handling his balls over a night in the dungeons any day.

"Oh yeah?" he said.

"Yeah. So we were all just sitting around, doing our thing, plotting to take over the world and stuff – the usual," said Blaise, putting on the same pompous voice he always did when divulging a particularly interesting story. "And, of course, Theo was sat on his own being miserable. Then, suddenly out of nowhere, the delightful Pansy Parkinson came swanning over to him and started… well, some might call it seducing but it was practically porn. Whatever it was, it was definitely not appropriate for the first years to be watching. Probably not even for the second and third years."

Draco began to chuckle pre-emptively. As much as he sympathised with Pansy, she did make a fool of herself sometimes.

"As usual, she had all the subtlety of a stampeding giant. She was wrapped around him like a scarf, and I must say, I had no idea quite how… _flexible_she is. I think at one point, he practically had his face in her muff and she was lying back on his legs rubbing her tits," Blaise grinned with relish.

Draco choked on his pumpkin juice.

"Then just when we all thought she might actually resort to stripping – and some people were even placing bets – he pushed her off and told her he wasn't interested. It was pretty brutal, I'll be honest. I think he might have called her a common whore, I can't be sure. But it's not even like he's the first person to turn her down. She's been throwing herself at practically everything with a dick since Christmas in some kind of desperate attempt to get over you, which I blatantly don't understand. You're hardly much to look at, and you certainly aren't very interesting. Yet still, she pines for the love of Draco Malfoy. Are you that good in the sack?"

The friendly barbs barely registered with Draco as all his sympathy for Pansy came flooding back again, replacing his amusement at the story. _How _was she still not over him? He felt guilty. He'd have to have a little chat with her and try to push her gently into moving on. He didn't want to feel weighed down by her, and as cruel as he'd been to her in the past, she was still a friend.

"I'm incredible. I'd blow your mind," Draco replied after a moment's pause. Then he stood up. "Well, as entertaining as this conversation was, I'm leaving you."

"Oh, got somewhere better to be, have you?" said Blaise with faux-sadness as he mimed being stabbed in the heart.

"Yeah, the library. I have a hot date for a three-way with Madam Pince and an essay for McGonagall. And, let's face it; even homework is better company than you," Draco grinned.

He walked out towards the door, his only goodbye from Blaise being the extension of his middle finger.

* * *

><p>"What was that?" asked Ginny, the second Hermione's backside grazed the bench.<p>

"What was what?" replied Hermione pleasantly, trying to ignore the blatant hostility in her friend's voice.

"That… smile," Ginny said, as though she was speaking a foul swear word.

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "Exactly that. A smile."

There was silence for a second and Hermione helped herself to some porridge.

"Why?"

Again, Hermione sighed at her friend's unfriendly tone as she stirred some sugar into her breakfast.

"I was just being nice. What, can't I smile at people now?" she asked sarcastically.

"You_ can_ smile at people," said Ginny. "But not at Malfoy."

"Malfoy is a person too, you know," Hermione replied exasperatedly.

"Yeah, and I'm a Hippogriff," was Ginny's scathing reply.

Hermione shot her a glare that warned her to drop the conversation. She'd had quite enough of Ginny's moodiness recently.

The atmosphere grew gradually more tense and stifling as they ate their breakfast in silence. Ginny had become very snappish as she had grown up, Hermione realised now. She was very different from the little girl Hermione had first met, who would blush every time Harry Potter spoke to her. Friends were supposed to stick together through thick and thin – and as of late, Ginny remained probably Hermione's only close friend – but Ginny was certainly making that very difficult lately.

As Hermione reached over towards the jug of pumpkin juice near Ginny, she barely noticed as her sleeves were pulled back to reveal her wrists and Ginny gasped loudly.

"Oh my God, Hermione!" she cried, animosity seemingly forgotten as she clutched at Hermione's hand. "What have you done?"

Ginny could be so easily distracted, thought Hermione. Perhaps next time they had a disagreement, she should just wave some keys in her face and say, "Ooh, shiny!" The thought was amusing. Ginny really must be starting to irritate her; Hermione was rarely so malicious.

"Nothing," she replied airily as she wrenched her hand away from Ginny and rolled her sleeve back down.

Hermione knew her wrists did look rather alarming this morning, but oddly, she quite liked them. There was a ring of purple and yellow bruising on each of them and the surrounding flesh was red because of how tight Malfoy had held them last night. She'd only noticed them in the shower this morning.

She knew she could have covered them or even healed them with some simple charms but there was a strange kind of beauty to them for her. It was almost like Malfoy's brand on her and as embarrassing as it was to think, she secretly enjoyed it. It was the same with the lovebite on her neck that her scarf was disguising. The physical reminders of him – the ones that proved to her that everything that happened with Malfoy was, in fact, real – were something she revelled in.

Hermione looked up from her thoughts, stroking her scarf absently, to see Ginny staring at her with eyes full of resentment.

"Why don't you tell me things anymore?" Ginny asked, her voice strangely flat, almost defeated.

_Because you're a bit of a bitch and I don't have to divulge all of my secrets to you, _thought Hermione.

"I do tell you things."

Even as Hermione said it, she knew it was a lie. She hadn't told Ginny anything remotely important about her life for weeks, but could anybody really blame her? Ginny had proven time and time again that she was judgemental, fickle, rude and, often, hurtful. Could she really be surprised that Hermione rarely trusted her to know the goings-on in her life nowadays?

"No, you don't," insisted Ginny. "I deserve to know about the serious things that are going on with you – I can tell that something big is happening because of how secretive you've been lately. And honestly, I think it's really selfish of you to keep it to yourself when you know I'm one of your best friends and I'm only here to support you. After all, I've stuck with you through everything this year-"

"Well that's a big bundle of lies, isn't it?" scoffed Hermione before she could stop herself.

Ginny looked affronted. "What?"

"All that stuff about how you'll be supportive and that you've stuck with me all year. Oh, and that _I'm _the one who's selfish. Because, as I recall, you were pretty absent over Christmas and you weren't exactly supporting my relationship with Theo," Hermione countered calmly.

Ginny's mouth formed into a perfect 'O' shape and her eyebrows knitted together as she stared, dumbstruck, at Hermione.

"You know, for a 'best friend," you've been remarkably horrible to me this year, and the Theo thing is just one example. Or are you only obligated to stick by me as long as I do what you want?"

"Hermione-"

"_And then_," Hermione continued loudly, cutting across Ginny's attempts at interruption, "after I suffered a terrible break-up and you hadn't spoken to me for weeks, you sauntered over and had the audacity to announce that _you _forgave _me, _like _I _was the one in the wrong. Well I'm sorry Ginny, but it wasn't me who'd done anything bad. It was definitely you. So as long as you keep up this terrible attempt at being my best friend, I'm not going to bother to tell you things, not if when I do you're judgemental and just plain rude."

Hermione slammed down her spoon and pushed her almost-empty bowl away.

"I'm leaving," she said, before marching out of the hall and leaving Ginny to stare after her as she left.

Instead of feeling bad that she'd started the argument, Hermione felt like a huge weight had been lifted offher shoulders. The truth had needed to be told because Hermione had been tolerant for far too long, and it was relieving to have finally said something.

As she walked, Hermione began thinking about Malfoy. Last night had been… she couldn't even describe it. Sleeping with him seemed to bring out that familiar spark in her that she'd lost over the past few months.

Should she have wanted more than what she had with him now? Yes, probably. If she was honest, she couldn't help but be a little ashamed of herself, but that was buried beneath mounds of desire and longing. It was stupid really; she could be logical and realistic and analyse their strange relationship with cold, calculating realism and know that what she was doing was wrong… but then all Malfoy would have to do was kiss her and do that wonderful thing where he nibbled on her lip and she may as well have melted into a puddle on the floor.

Plus, she told herself as she tried to convince herself there was nothing wrong with what she wanted, a relationship with Malfoy would be flawed from the offset. Even taking his family, background, upbringing and their past out of the equation, there was still the fact that she had no idea whether he might want a relationship or not. Not to mention what Harry and Ron's reactions would probably be like. So this was the next best thing, and there was nothing wrong with that.

But of course, she knew if she carried on this way, she might start to feel horrific about herself. After all, this would never have been how she would have planned things out if she could have. She knew well enough that if she carried on sleeping with Malfoy without talking about what was going on, things would get messy and her head would get very confused. But it was just so hard to think about what to do for the best when his touch made her forget everything.

She didn't really know where she was going but her feet found a location for her, leading her to the library. She didn't go as frequently as usual nowadays, only occasionally on weekends and in the free periods when she should have had Defence Against the Dark Arts; her shared common room with Malfoy was more often than not the place she went for homework instead this year because it seemed silly to waste the workspace there.

The familiar smell of paper and wooden bookshelves coupled with the sound of quills on parchment and turning pages lured her in, guiding her to her favourite secluded corner.

Dumping her bag down and unwinding her scarf because no-one would probably be around to see the purplish-red marks on her neck, Hermione browsed the shelves for something eye-catching. After selecting a red leather-bound tome, she settled down for a good, relaxing read.

It was about ten minutes later that that familiar flash of white over the top of her book distracted her from her reading and to Hermione's surprise Malfoy had plonked himself down at a desk beyond the aisle formed by the bookshelves where she was sat. Normally she would have been irritated by an intrusion into what she tended to think of as her territory, but as it was Malfoy she didn't really mind.

The corner of the library that now contained the two of them was quiet and devoid of anyone else. The large desk in the centre of the rows of shelves on either side with easily enough room for fifty students to study at was burdened with only Malfoy's textbooks and parchment. He was sat on the far side of it, so that he was facing her, though he hadn't seen her yet. In a corridor formed by the overshadowing bookcases, sandwiched by shelves stacked with copies of hundreds of novels, three slightly battered armchairs were empty except for Hermione's. There were no windows this far back in the library, so the only light came from small glowing lanterns in glass cases that floated overhead, giving the cluttered space a cosy feel.

Malfoy had his head bent over his parchment and was chewing thoughtfully on his quill. Over the top of the book, Hermione noticed his face as he concentrated on whatever homework he was doing. He looked upwards as though he was thinking about something and then his eyes wandered to where Hermione sat, staring at him with intrigue. He half-smiled at her and she quickly looked back down at the pages, for some reason embarrassed to be caught looking at him.

Hermione wasn't sure why her heart suddenly felt like it had taken up residence in her throat and her gut was knotted into a complex web of tangles – he'd only smiled at her for Merlin's sake! She'd seen him naked! But this felt somehow more intimate than that.

He carried on with his work for about twenty minutes, which Hermione knew because she kept sneaking glances at him every few seconds. Then he stood up. Though the bookcases behind him were nearer to him, he chose to wander over to the ones enclosing Hermione instead.

"Alright Granger?" he asked innocently, flashing her a smirk that made her insides coil over on themselves once more.

She nodded because she was somehow unable to find words to form a reply. What was wrong with her?! Malfoy's smirk grew and then he turned his back on her, plucked a book from a shelf and strode back over to his perch at the desk.

A blush began to creep up her cheeks and down her neck, so Hermione buried herself in the book once more, but by now she'd lost all interest in the storyline and couldn't concentrate on the words.

As it appeared that sleeping with Malfoy was not going to be a one-time thing, his proximity made Hermione wonder when it might happen again. She actually quite hoped it might be soon. She didn't feel worried or guilty or regretful anymore, because now she thought about it, last night – from the sex to the presentation of his shirt to the lip stroking – had been bliss.

She felt very much as though they were on the brink of something and it excited her. She couldn't clearly define what it might be, nor was she sure she'd ever be able to know with certainty until it happened, but for once she didn't mind not knowing.

Hermione suddenly felt a light breeze wafting to her left and heard a soft fluttering sound which pulled her out of her daydreaming. A look over the book she was still pretending to read revealed that a small scrap of parchment was hovering in the air; it was folded over in such a way that flaps of paper had formed tiny wings, which were fluttering madly. She snatched it up and looked around. Still, there was no-one nearby but Malfoy and he had his head bent over his book.

Carefully, and with a little apprehension, she unfolded the paper.

_What happened to your neck, Granger?_

Instantly, she knew it was from Malfoy. Her head snapped up once more to gaze at him but he was still working. But she thought she saw a small smile on his face.

Hermione reached into her bag for the spare quill she always kept in there.

Distractedly stroking the pink mark on her neck, she scribbled a reply beneath Malfoy's loopy and suggestive little quip.

_Have you forgotten so soon? I should be offended. _

She sent it soaring back to its sender before retreating once more behind the shelter of her novel. After a second or two, she thought she heard a small chuckle but she didn't dare look over the book to check. A few moments later the parchment was levitating before her once more.

_Forget? Impossible. And don't feel offended. Unless there's some way I could make it up to you…?_

The three little dots made her skin tingle. She felt her face heat up for the third time today and she squirmed in her seat. She was flirting with Malfoy, wasn't she? She'd never really done this before. It seemed a little odd to her that she'd be surprised to find herself flirting with someone she'd slept with twice. But at the same time, the way it made her stomach do back flips and her body quiver was exciting.

With trembling fingers she wrote another reply.

_I'm sure you'll think of a way. _

When Malfoy unfolded the parchment and his eyes skimmed over the words, Hermione watched his lip**s** curl up. He looked up and met her gaze then gave her a little wink and she practically dove behind her book to hide her red face.

For half an hour, Hermione sat uncomfortably in her chair, re-reading the same sentence over and over and trying not to let her mind wander onto thoughts about Malfoy, though it quickly proved impossible. Hermione was pretty sure that he too was finding it difficult to concentrate because she hadn't heard him turn a page in a while. It was becoming torture to sit there and do nothing, but she didn't think it would be physically possible for her to leave because her legs felt like jelly.

At long last, Malfoy got up and walked towards her, replacing his book on a shelf immediately to her right. He was so close she could smell the lemon and liquorice; if she moved even a fraction, she'd be able to touch his back – she could reach up and stroke his hair if she wanted to. And she did want to. Instead, she sat completely still.

When he turned around, she thought she felt his fingertips graze her shoulder and it set her heart beating unnecessarily fast. And then suddenly, she saw a small piece of crumpled up parchment drop into her lap. She ignored it and stared fixedly at her book until Malfoy had disappeared completely from sight. Then, with her breath caught in her throat, she straightened it out.

_You look good in my shirt, Granger._


	32. Secrets

**A/N - Long time no see, gang. How're we all doing? **

**I finally got round to writing with Nicolio and in the spirit of it all, I thought I'd upload a new chapter. ****So now, I leave you with a very wise saying: "_What goes up, must come down..."_**

**And come down it does. **

* * *

><p>"If you don't wipe that stupid smile off your face, Draco, I swear I'll punch it off," was how Blaise greeted Draco as he sank into the leather armchair opposite him.<p>

Draco made an effort to force his expression blank, but that didn't stop him from still feeling smug and (for once) happy. Even thought it was another bland Wednesday night, remarkable for only its unremarkable-ness – he had a shit load of homework to finish, a day of boring classes tomorrow and the weather was still gloomy and grey – he didn't think it would be possible for him to feel better.

Whatever he was supposed to call it, the… _thing_ he and Granger had going on right now was pretty good. Since the flirtation in the library he'd felt elated, uplifted even. For a few days, he'd been on cloud nine, snatching brief glimpses of Granger during the day that fuelled their encounters at night. They'd only had sex again once though, on Monday night after rounds. Well, if they could be called rounds given that they had instead descended into two hours of kissing in an empty classroom followed by a sneaky run back to the common room to finish off. It had been in her bed, again, and as usual he'd left shortly after. Somehow, staying over afterwards felt a little… well, presumptuous, kind of.

But despite the fact that he was currently very much occupied in his little bubble for happiness, Draco knew things were far from perfect. He knew that while, for now, both he and Granger were willing to give into their desires to touch and kiss and fuck without complication, there would come a time when everything would have to be re-evaluated. They'd have to lay out the blueprints of what they were doing, what they were, where it was all headed, and it was a conversation he did not want to have. Draco wasn't sure what he could give Granger, or even if he could offer her anything at all. The fact that he possibly wanted to was irrelevant. There was his family, his fortune, his reputation to think of. Things would get messy.

He pushed his concerns away from the forefront of his mind, quelling them to focus on the figure sat opposite him in front of the fire. In the greenish light of the common room he could see that Blaise had one eyebrow raised quizzically and he was staring at Draco in a way that was very much not amused.

"Hello to you too," said Draco, shifting in his chair to get more comfortable. "If you don't like my smiling then don't worry, I can't stop long anyway. Things to do, people to see." _Grangers to shag, _he added wickedly in his head. "You ok?"

Blaise mimed hanging himself. "You know, the usual: slowly piecing myself back together after my heartbreak, battling teenage alcoholism and I have a smug prick for a best friend. Life's peachy."

Draco laughed, glad he'd made the spur of the moment decision to drop by and visit Blaise. He'd barely seen him except for at meals or in lessons since Saturday. Granger had just kept him occupied.

"But I'm not asking you how you are, that fucking superior smirk was enough of a giveaway," Blaise added. "Seriously though, what's been going on with your face these past few days?"

"Nothing," Draco replied as casually as he could muster. "It's as handsome as it's always been."

"Draco," Blaise grumbled, an unusually sour look crossing over his face. "Enough, alright? Tell me why you've been in such a good mood recently. All his shady shit's really starting to piss me off."

Draco stared at his friend wordlessly with raised eyebrows and a blank gaze he'd quickly mastered now that every conversation Blaise and he had turned into this same interrogation. He glanced around the common room under the pretence of being bored; he noticed that it was beginning to fill up with students returning from dinner and made a mental note to leave within the next half hour.

"Do you want to know what I think? And bear in mind that you have absolutely no choice about this and no matter what this conversation is going to get really serious, faster than you can say 'Malfoy's a tosser,'" said Blaise, leaning forwards in his chair. "I think you've got a girlfriend."

Faking a laugh, Draco tried to interrupt but Blaise waved it away.

"No, no, let's consider the evidence. First: this ridiculous and somewhat miraculous mood swing. The last time I saw you this happy was when you lost your virginity in that two minute tumble with Pansy. You remember that? Seriously Draco, you've got that same weird glow, same stupid smile, and I know it has to be because of something way more than just the fact you're getting some. Plus, I haven't seen much of you lately. Meal times don't count. You always seem like you need to be somewhere, like tonight, and I reckon it's because you're too busy bumping uglies with your unfortunate companion to visit poor, lonely old me," pouted Blaise sarcastically. "And, my final clue: all the secrecy and denial. If this was just sex, you'd be rubbing it in my face because you're just that much of a twat. But no, and therefore all this hush-hush business leads me to believe that the great Draco Malfoy has broken, and he doesn't want the world to know that he has a girlfriend."

As Blaise had been talking, Draco had felt his face gradually drain of blood, and now that he was sitting back rather victoriously in his armchair Draco felt a little sick. Blaise was slightly off the mark with his accusations but he was close enough that Draco felt winded and panicked.

Blaise could not know. No-one could. How would he explain it? He was not ready for the level of commitment and bravery and pressure that being with Granger, or at least acknowledging their relationship, would require. Merlin knew, he'd long since established that he liked the girl, but enough to risk his entire heritage on her? Not by a long shot. Or at least, he didn't think so.

He'd been silent only a second as all this tore through his mind in a rush of fear and cowardice, and he was about to spit a derisive comment when a voice over his shoulder stopped him.

"Malfoy has a girlfriend? Did I hear that right? Well, what wonderful news," came the voice, every world laced with a heavy helping of sarcasm. "Who's the lucky lady, anyone I know?"

Draco craned his neck around to take in the sight of Theo leaning casually against the back of his chair, looking down at him maliciously. There was something hidden in that stare, he could sense it, something that Theo was trying to hint at but that he couldn't quite grasp.

"Evening Blaise," Theo continued politely.

"Alright?" Blaise replied with a nod of his head, his grin widening a little at the blossoming awkward situation in front of him. Bastard.

"So come on Draco, do tell!" Theo said with feigned enthusiasm. "Who is the mystery woman?"

His smile was almost dangerous, Draco thought as Theo flashed his pearly white teeth.

"I don't have a girlfriend," Draco said, clenching his fists and fighting the sudden urge to punch Theo which had overcome him. "Now why don't you stop listening in on our conversation and go away? Nobody here wants you around."

"Oh, alright then. Somebody's touchy," said Theo, before he wandered off to sit alone at a desk tucked away in the corner of the common room.

"Things are getting deliciously entertaining between you two," said Blaise a few moments later as he sat picking dirt out from under his fingernails.

"That's a disgusting habit," said Draco with a grimace. "But I just don't understand why he's still being such an arse about everything. If he doesn't want to be my mate anymore, fine, but he doesn't have to be such a twat."

"That's beside the original topic of conversation and you know it. Stop changing the subject," replied Blaise sternly.

Draco groaned and rubbed his hand over his face, so tired of fending off Blaise's infernal questions. He knew that was the point, that his friend was trying to wear him down until he gave in and answered, and he had to admit he was becoming sorely tempted.

He was about to tell Blaise to just drop it once and for all but for the second time in as many minutes he was interrupted, this time by a huge cheer erupting from behind him.

It appeared that some third and fourth years had set up some kind of drinking game and were now crowding round a small, mousey haired boy, cheering him on. The reason quickly became apparent as Draco watched in wonder as the boy downed three shots of what was no doubt Firewhiskey in quick succession. His look of disgust morphed into a proud smile as the cheers doubled in volume.

Draco tutted, remembering the last time he'd gotten drunk on a school night that time with Blaise. He knew full well that those boys would be regretting their decision tomorrow and turned around to tell Blaise so but didn't when he saw the look on his friend's face. It was pure, tortured longing, and as Blaise was eyeing the shot glasses a flicker of desire crossed his features. His breathing became heavy to the point where he was almost panting, and Draco could see his hands and body begin to quiver slightly.

Knowing it was crucial that his friend didn't delve back into his habit of binge-drinking, Draco stood up and yanked Blaise to his feet by the collar.

"Come on," he muttered. "We're going for a walk."

As Draco dragged Blaise out of the room, he pretended not to notice Theo's curious stare following them. The boy was up to something, Draco could tell. They'd be having words sooner or later, Draco promised himself, but for now his concerns were with Blaise, not Theo.

Blaise stayed totally silent until the pair of them got to the ground floor, emerging up the steps and out into the corridor that led to the Entrance Hall. His gaspy breathing had become less ragged as they walked until at last it was almost back to normal, although he was still trembling quite badly.

"Thanks," he rasped eventually. "You definitely did the right thing back there."

"That bad?" asked Draco, concerned still over his friend's extreme reaction.

"Yep. It was just- I mean, when I saw it, I- oh, it's so hard to explain," Blaise sighed. "It's hard to not have it usually, but I just try to forget about it. I do other things to keep myself busy, keep my mind away from the booze, and normally it works. But if I stop for just a second, it's back there, in my brain, teasing me. I can usually cope though. Seeing it's different though. I've managed to avoid it reasonably well so far but… I- I neededit, Draco. I didn't just want it, I _needed _it. I'd have done anything to run across the room and just steal it off that kid if you hadn't pulled me out when you did. Oh God, I can feel my throat burning."

Draco nodded and clapped a comforting hand on Blaise's shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"Feel free to call me out on the bullshit here since I have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about, but it'll get easier. It has to, right?" he said.

"I certainly fucking hope so," murmured Blaise.

They wandered for a while through a twisting path of corridors, staircases and passageways, making it all the way to the second floor without saying a word. Blaise's breathing was still a little heavy and, apart from the soft tapping of their footsteps, the low mutters of the portraits and the quiet whisper of the burning torches, it was the only sound. It was still well before curfew – in fact, it was barely six p.m. – but to Draco's surprise they encountered no-one at all. Once or twice, he thought maybe that he heard footsteps that he was sure weren't his or Blaise's, but he could see no-one around.

Blaise suddenly let out a huge, heaving sigh and looked at Draco with sad eyes.

"Who is she, Draco?" he asked with an air of defeat.

"Who's who?"

"Oh, cut the crap, ferret!" Blaise snapped, shaking his head. "Who's the girl? You just… Just now, you were remarkably thoughtful about the thing with the drink, you know? And you aren't exactly known for your tactfulness usually. And all this stuff with you lately, you've seemed… I don't know… more carefree, maybe?"

Draco looked at Blaise quizzically, who laughed.

"No, I don't mean that you've been skipping and frolicking through the halls- I just mean that usually you're so tightly wound and it's nice to see you relax a little bit. Miss Mystery is teaching you how to let go and you should be worshipping the ground she walks on for that. Whoever she is, she's fixing you bit by bit, Draco Malfoy. And you might not have noticed it, but it's true. Hell, even if she is messing up your bad boy image, at least she's managed to put a smile on your face, right? Who is it that's making you so happy?"

Draco slowed his pace a little, considering what Blaise had said. Yes, Granger made him happier than anything else he could think of at the minute, but fixing him? He wasn't so sure about that.

"She isn't 'fixing' me," he said, noticing how affronted he sounded.

"So there is a she?" Blaise replied smugly as Draco realised too late he'd fallen into Blaise's trap. He cursed himself as they ascended the stairs to the third floor.

Well, there was no use denying it now that Blaise knew.

"Yes," he sighed, defeated. "There's a she."

Blaise snorted lightly. "You're so easy to manipulate sometimes, ferret. But if you had a girlfriend, why wouldn't you just tell me?"

"Because it isn't like that," said Draco with a little frustration. "It's… well, it's complicated."

Again, Blaise laughed, his dark skin glowing in the torchlight and his brown eyes glittering. "Draco, no relationship is ever _un_complicated."

"Yeah, but this one… it's pretty fucked up, even by_ your_ standards," Draco replied sadly. "Sorry," he added quickly, when he realised how harsh he had just sounded.

"Don't worry about it; you're right, I know fucked up relationships pretty well. So," said Blaise as they walked past an open classroom in which Peeves was throwing things about, ignoring the din he was creating, "what's so bad about it?"

Draco thought for a second about how best to explain the situation without making it too obvious who he was talking about. He looked out of the window at the grounds which were enveloped in darkness and tried to put what was going on into words.

"Well first of all, I don't think it's a proper relationship. I mean, we've never exactly sat down and talked about it. I- I don't even really know if she likes me," he said pathetically.

For the third time, Blaise burst out laughing, although he quickly controlled himself. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's not funny. But… how on Earth can you not know?"

"We've – well, we've… done stuff," Draco said, keeping his words deliberately vague as he could imagine the look on Hermione's face if he revealed the full extent of what they had done. "So obviously she wants me, like, physically. But that doesn't necessarily mean that she _likes _me. Let's face it: I'm not a very likeable person. Plus, she's way too good for me."

"If we're really going to delve into that, I think most girls are too good for you," said Blaise.

Draco felt a little irritated. He couldn't be that bad, surely?

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not saying you're a bad guy," Blaise said quickly. "I just mean that you aren't what most girls would look for in a partner, are you? Look: you've never been in a proper relationship because what you had with Pansy was barely even a thing; you don't really do well with feelings; you're notorious as a womanizer and as Slytherin's bad boy; and last year you tried to kill Dumbledore. Fair enough," Blaise continued over Draco's shout of offense, "you didn't _actually _do it, but it's still there."

There was a small silence and all of Blaise's points hit home with Draco.

"You're right," he said in a quiet voice. "You're absolutely right. But... but when I'm with H- _her, _when I'm with her… I forget I'm that shit. She makes me forget. Sometimes I think that even though she knows all that stuff, she chooses not to care about it because she knows that all that doesn't define me, not really. But then sometimes I worry that she secretly does hold it all against me and she's just waiting to use it."

"You like her a lot, don't you?" asked Blaise. He sounded almost in awe.

Draco nodded hesitantly. "Yeah, I suppose I do. But I shouldn't," he blurted.

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean you shouldn't?"

"She's wrong for me in so many ways," admitted Draco glumly. "So even if we did end up figuring all this out and started a relationship, it wouldn't work. My mother would never approve. I'd lose everything."

"Wait… what do you mean?" asked Blaise again, clearly confused. "I mean, what's not to approve of? She's a Pureblood, right?"

Draco swallowed. If he admitted this to Blaise, there would be no telling how he might react, no going back. He'd have to tell him that it was Granger. Shit.

"No."

Abruptly, Blaise came to a halt and so did Draco. He looked a little alarmed and stared at Draco very seriously. Draco's heart was pounding in anticipation.

"Half-blood then?"

Bracing himself, Draco looked away from Blaise's almost disappointed gaze and shook his head.

There was a moment of total silence that threatened to crush Draco with its weight before he dared look at his friend. When he did, he saw that Blaise was still staring at him, eyes wide, eyebrows halfway up his forehead.

"Shit," was all he said.

"Yeah," Draco replied, nodding forlornly.

There was another awkward pause.

"Well," muttered Blaise at last, after what seemed like a century of Draco staring at anything but him, "whatever floats your boat, I guess. I never thought I'd live to see the day when you, of all people, would fancy a Mudblood. But you know, if it's what you want, I'll have to get used to the idea, right?"

Draco smiled gratefully at him as his heartbeat slowed a little, glad and surprised at how well he was taking the information.

"Thanks mate," he said, his voice full of gratitude and relief.

"No worries, now let's stop this before it gets too mushy. So, which one is it? Ha, it's not Granger, is it?" Blaise laughed, clearly trying to inject some humour into the situation but not noticing as Draco's face blanched. "You been knocking her off in your common room?"

But just as Draco was about to reveal the terrible truth of his joke to the still chuckling Blaise, he was cut short by an angry yell of: "I bloody knew it!"

To Draco's great shock, Theo came charging around the corner behind them where he'd obviously been hiding and eavesdropping, pooled away in the black shadows. His face was contorted in a murderous rage and he stopped Blaise's laughing in its tracks when he marched towards the pair of Slytherins, who were frozen beneath a burning torch.

"You bastard!" Theo shouted, grabbing Draco's robes and pushing him up against the wall as Blaise watched.

"Well this is familiar," he murmured, unable to suppress his reflex to use humour to mask when he felt uncomfortable. Draco could have hit him.

"Shut it!" snarled Theo before he turned back to glare at Draco.

"Have you been following us?" asked Draco incredulously, shoving against him roughly. "What the hell?"

Theo's heavy breaths were billowing into Draco's face and it was only then that he smelt the familiar sour tang of whiskey.

"Have you been drinking?"

"I might have confiscated some from those fourth year pricks in the common room, yeah," confirmed Theo. "And then I thought, why not go for a little stroll and see if I can overhear who Malfoy's anonymous girlfriend is, and you know what? I did. What the fuck have you been playing at?"

He grabbed Draco's robes tighter, using them to pull him away from the wall and then smash him back against it, knocking him dizzy and sending pain shooting up his head and back.

"What about you? You creepy fucking stalker! Don't you have anything better to do than follow people about and listen in on their conversations?" spat Draco, desperately hoping to keep Theo from saying what he thought he was about to.

"That's not the point right now," said Theo, dashing Draco's hopes. "The point is you and Hermione having some sordid secret affair! I fucking knew it, ever since that day outside the hospital wing. She's the Muggleborn you were talking about, I know it. You don't deserve her at all, you arrogant prick!"

Draco ducked out of the way of Theo's clenched fist, having learnt from his last violent encounter with the boy and pre-emptively moving out of his line of fire. Theo's hand collided hard with the wall and he let out a howl of pain as the skin split; Draco took the opportunity to push hard against him and spin him around, pinning him against the wall instead and reversing their positions.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Draco yelled back, deciding that denial was the best policy at this point. He was well aware of Blaise watching the exchange, but he didn't really look entertained as much as dumbstruck.

"I could tell then Draco, I could tell that you liked her," Theo seethed, struggling against Draco's hold, but years of Quidditch had left him sufficiently strong enough to maintain his grip. "Why else would you have visited her when she was in the hospital wing when six months ago you'd probably have been the one who put her there? Was this your plan from the start? Steal her away from me so you could have her all for yourself?"

"It was never planned, Theo. It's not true!"

"Stop lying!" Theo bellowed, flecks of spit flying onto Draco's face. "I know there's something going on between you. Admit it!"

Draco began to panic again (and for one brief moment, he remembered the day he'd found out about Daphne and Dean, and thought he might be able to understand why she'd been scared to go public with him). Theo couldn't know; he'd tell everyone. He'd only just worked up the courage to tell Blaise, his best friend, but the whole school was a different story. If everyone knew, what would he do? They'd see him differently, they'd judge him; somehow, he knew it, word would get to his mother and she'd disown him and he'd lose his fortune, the Manor, everything.

Or worse; what if somehow, the Death Eaters got hold of the information? It would make him prime target: Lucius Malfoy's disgraced son now screwing a Mudblood… they'd rip him apart because otherwise they'd be shamed.

If everyone knew, they'd probably assume that he'd join the Order, fight alongside them… he didn't want to fight! He just wanted to run far away when the time came for the battle and hide for a while until it was all done with. Sure, he wasn't a Death Eater anymore, but that didn't make him part of the Order. His cowardliness crept over him like a blanket, smothering him with fear. No, he had to convince Theo of his lie…

"Theo, this is all in your head!" he shouted, trying to force as much conviction into his voice as he could manage. "Why would I ever touch her? As if it's not bad enough that she's a Mudblood, she's like their queen: Saint_ fucking_ Granger, the Gryffindor and the Potter-lover! Have you heard what you're saying? She's the girl I tormented for years, and now you think I love her or something? I'd never touch her; she isn't who I was talking to Blaise about!" he yelled, grunting slightly under the effort of holding Theo against the wall as he had doubled his efforts to throw Draco off him.

"Oh really?" asked Theo slyly.

"Yes!" Draco cried.

Time for one final push to throw Theo off the scent…

"She's a big, bushy-haired know-it-all with all the sexual appeal of a roll of parchment, and I wouldn't touch her if my life depended on it!"

Perhaps he'd overdone it slightly with the cruelty of his insults, but that should have made them sufficiently mean enough to persuade Theo that Draco did not like Granger, however wrong that was. And then just as he was congratulating himself on a winning performance, there was a clatter and a squeak from behind the three of them and Draco whirled his head around, seeing something that made his heart sink faster than a lead weight in water.

Hermione, his Hermione, was stood at the end of the corridor on the bottom stair of the staircase that led upward to the fourth floor with her hand clapped over her mouth. A suit of armour to her immediate left was missing a helmet, which lay on the floor at its feet; she must have knocked it, which explained the cause of the clanging.

Even at the distance, Draco could see tears in her eyes and he knew that she'd heard all the appalling lies he'd just spouted – _oh fucking hell, how long had she been standing there? No, no, no!_ She took a horrified step backwards, almost tripping on a stair. His stomach was twisting in on itself and he felt like he'd been stabbed. He'd buggered it up again, like he always did…

"Hermione," Draco called gently, his voice low and apologetic. She took another step backwards. "Hermione, please, just let me explain-"

But then she took off at a run up the staircase, stumbling a few times, and he heard her heartbroken sobs echoing behind her. It was like he had a rope around his neck that was cutting off all his air supply. What had he done now? He knew he had to go after her; he had to make her see that he was sorry, had to repair all the damage he'd just caused.

He turned around to see Theo grinning smugly, no longer squirming to try to get out of his grip. That smile told Draco that he'd known Hermione had been stood there and he'd taunted Draco into saying such horrible things.

"So there's nothing going on between you, is there?" he asked evilly.

A fraction of a second later, Draco's fist collided with his face, sending jets of bright red blood everywhere when Theo's nose broke. Theo cried out and slid down the wall, clutching his face and Draco barely had time to feel satisfied that he'd finally returned the favour (however late) by breaking Theo's nose as Theo had his so many months ago when he remembered Blaise, who he'd almost forgotten was there.

He was staring, open-mouthed and disbelievingly at Draco.

"I was joking," he muttered. "It's her though, isn't it?"

Draco didn't acknowledge the question.

"I have to go and fix this," he said grimly, before leaving his friend and the bleeding Theo as he took off up the stairs at a sprint to catch Hermione.

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><p><strong>If you haven't seen my profile, I've decided on a rough uploading schedule for Octoberearly November, so go and have a gander over at that if you want to know when I plan to upload again.**

**In news, my one-shot 'Clair de Lune' won second place in the One-Line competition 3 over on HPFC, so why not give that a look over if you're bored waiting for updates? My life is getting kind of interesting which I suppose is good... but it eats up my time. I MISS FANFICTION AND YOU GUYS.**

**That's all my lovelies. If things go to plan, I'll see you on the 10th. **


	33. Over

**A/N - Hello beautiful people!**

**I've had an awful, awful, awful past few days, especially last night. Bad break-up scenario... you know the drill. *sigh* Ignore me. You know what's irritating? When fic authors bore their readers with irrelevant things :P**

**On the plus side, I kept to the schedule, whoo! Thanks for all the lovely reviews that cheer me up when I'm down (it may be narcissistic of me to scroll through my own reviews for pick-me-ups but fuck it.). Let's see how Draco tries to fix things... silly boy. **

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><p>Today had started out so well.<p>

Hermione had woken up actually happy, content. She'd rolled out of her double bed, taken her morning shower in a kind of haze of muted bliss, and over breakfast Malfoy caught her eye as she ate her toast, giving her a secret smile that only she knew the meaning of; a smirk that held the promise of a clandestine rendezvous in the near future.

After Transfiguration, her last class of the day, Hermione had been eager to run down to get dinner early and then sneak back to the common room. But then had come a minor bombshell in the form of Professor McGonagall, who called her back just before she could leave to inform her that some fourth and fifth years were requesting O.W.L. tutoring and she and Malfoy had been nominated as tutors.

"Of course Professor," Hermione had said as she hopped anxiously from foot to foot, desperate to get away. "When would you like us to start?"

"Tonight preferably," said McGonagall and Hermione felt a little deflated.

"Tonight?"

"Yes. The pair of you are to meet the students at the library at six thirty and you'll probably have to hold a session three nights a week due to the sheer volume of students requiring extra help. Although I'm sure the two of you can decide which nights would suit you best between yourselves so as not to keep you from your other responsibilities. Don't forget: six thirty," McGonagall replied curtly, and then as usual swept off leaving no room for argument.

That had slightly scuppered Hermione's potential evening, but she didn't mind too much. She had all the time in the world for Malfoy. After dinner, she went back to the common room, only to find that Malfoy wasn't there. She waited to see if he would drop by for about half an hour, but as time crept closer and closer to six, she knew she'd have to go and search for him. She decided he'd probably be in one of two places: the library, or the Slytherin common room, visiting his horrible, stuck-up friends.

But it turned out she hadn't needed to go anywhere near as far away as those places.

As Hermione neared the stairs down to the third floor she heard shouting. No doubt it was a spat between students even though that was strictly forbidden by school rules. She'd have to report it. But it was only as she began to descend the staircase that the yells became intelligible.

"…your plan from the start? Steal her away from me so you could have her all for yourself?"

"It was never planned, Theo. It's not true!"

"Stop lying! I know there's something going on between you. Admit it!"

She knew their voices so well that she'd worked out that it was Theo and Malfoy before she even got to the bottom of the stairs and saw them. Theo was pinned against the wall by Draco who looked scared but angry, and Theo – well, Theo was just the picture of pure rage. She noticed Blaise Zabini stood nearby the two, just watching, with his mouth hanging wide open.

Her heartbeat sped up a little as she processed their angry yells. Who had Malfoy stolen away from Theo? Had Theo been seeing someone else? Had Malfoy been dating this girl as well as sleeping with her? The bastard… and then an even more terrifying prospect slapped her in the face.

Were they talking about her?

Malfoy had decided to _tell _people?

And then she heard him say it.

"Theo, this is all in your head! Why would I ever touch her? As if it's not bad enough that she's a Mudblood, she's like their queen: Saint_ fucking_ Granger, the Gryffindor and the Potter-lover! Have you heard what you're saying? She's the girl I tormented for years, and now you think I love her or something? I'd never touch her; she isn't who I was talking to Blaise about!"

Every single disgusting word was like a separate knife stabbing her directly in the heart, and she could almost feel it bleeding. She wanted to cry out but sound seemed to fail her as not only did she feel like she'd stopped breathing, but she went momentarily deaf as blood rushed to her ears and they began ringing. She felt the stinging in her eyes and tears sprang up before she could even think about fighting them back, and the wound in her heart was ripped further open by the next few vicious words that she heard come tumbling out of Malfoy's mouth when her hearing came back.

"…a big, bushy-haired know-it-all with all the sexual appeal of a roll of parchment, and I wouldn't touch her if my life depended on it!"

And now as she ran away from him, succumbing to the body-shaking sobs and hot salty tears that were spilling down her cheeks, his horrible words were replaying and bouncing around relentlessly in her mind.

This whole thing with him had been a sham, a delusion, a massive mistake she'd been stupid enough to make and a charade on Malfoy's part that she'd been blind to fall for.

The tears wouldn't stop coming as she ran down the corridor, intent on reaching her bedroom and locking Malfoy out, leaving her vision fuzzy and blurred. She'd have to skip the tutoring – how would she be able to face it now? She'd just have to apologise to Professor McGonagall as soon as she could.

But then, after a minute of reassuring silence, Hermione heard Malfoy yelling from somewhere behind her, calling her name and pleading with her to wait. She picked up the pace and starting sprinting, but his shouts, instead of growing more distant, kept getting closer. He was annoyingly fast, gaining on her quickly.

Not long after she'd started sprinting, she reached the portrait of the lion and the snake. She gasped out the password in between crying and huge, heaving breaths from running and stumbled inside, still choking out sobs that shook her whole body and were starting to make her lungs hurt. But Hermione knew she wouldn't make it to her room even before she tried because (as well as it being just too convenient, she thought angrily, so the universe conspired against her to prevent it) she had just seen Malfoy step through the portrait after her.

"Hermione, for God's sake, wait!" he begged, grabbing at her wrist and pulling her back. _Why did he have to be so _fucking _fast?!_

Malfoy's tugging increased suddenly so that she was spun around in a fashion slightly reminiscent of dancing with him at the Christmas Ball only two months ago, and now she was facing him, her nose probably half an inch from his face. He didn't give her a chance to say anything but grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close. Cradling her head in his neck, he squeezed her so tight she thought she might burst and kissed the top of her head as she carried on bawling.

"I'm so, so, so unbelievably _fucking _sorry, Hermione," he muttered into her hair.

But then, after letting her guard down for a few seconds and relaxing into his embrace, she remembered again why he was apologising, so she began to struggle. Malfoy refused to let her go, perhaps hoping she would give up and give into him again but when Hermione stamped on his foot hard, he let out a yelp and loosened his grip.

"N-No!" she sobbed, punching his chest and wrenching his arms from around her. She took several steps away from him. "You wouldn't t-touch me if your l-life d-depended on it, remember?"

The look Malfoy gave her when she said it was so regretful and sad and full of inner torment that if she had been a weaker person she'd probably have stopped being mad at him just to spare him the pain he was clearly feeling. But she wasn't. She was strong; she was Hermione _fucking _Granger and he had just hurt her more than she had ever thought possible.

"I didn't mean anything I said, Hermione, I swear," Malfoy said, staring at her imploringly while she continued to cry.

"Then why did you say it?" she yelled. "There is no excuse for the detestable things you just said about me, none!"

As Malfoy began to mutter mumbled justifications, Hermione was aware she was filling up with more pent-up aggression than she thought possible. And then when the seconds continued to pass and Malfoy still hadn't said anything of substance, she lost her cool entirely.

She seized a plush green cushion from the couch nearby and launched it at him with all the strength she could generate. It struck Malfoy on the side of the head with a thump and knocked him a couple of steps backwards, silencing him. When he stopped stumbling, he looked up at her, shocked, and then quickly looked scared instead when the first cushion was followed by its crimson brother, and then another green one, and then, when Hermione decided cushions weren't sufficient, a china figurine and a glass paperweight from the trestle table beside the couch.

"How could you?!" Hermione found herself screaming hysterically as she continued to throw objects at the terrified Malfoy. Her attack was so frenzied that her aim was terrible and hardly any of the objects found their target, but she didn't really care.

"Hermione, please, stop- " Malfoy shouted above the symphony of shattering objects, while ducking and dodging them too.

"Why would you do this to me after everything? I thought I could trust you; I gave you my virginity for fuck's sake – although I don't know why you bothered to take it since I have 'all the sexual appeal of a roll of parchment.' I thought you'd changed! And then you had the nerve to slag me off to your vile friends when you thought I wasn't listening. What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked more calmly, as she ceased throwing things at Malfoy now her rage was beginning to taper back off into tears. "What did I ever do to you to deserve that?"

Malfoy looked at her once more with his sad, sad grey eyes while he stood amidst the mess she'd caused. He said nothing and his silence flared up her anger again.

"Don't just fucking stand there!" Hermione yelled. "Tell me Malfoy, what horrific thing did I do to you that led me to deserve being backstabbed and insulted? That was the most humiliating thing that's ever happened to me. You were heartless and callous and utterly cruel," she added, the last word becoming a choked sob.

Again, he said nothing and looked around the room desolately as if he was expecting to find her an answer somewhere.

"Look me in the eyes, Draco, and tell me why you said all those things!"

She picked up two more cushions but only launched one before Malfoy strode across the room and grabbed her arms, trapping them by her sides.

"Will you stop that?" he shouted, ignoring her protests and struggles and keeping tight hold of her. "You didn't do anything, alright? You haven't done anything, why would you think that? I just… panicked."

"Panicked?"

"Yes, panicked! I don't know how much you heard, but when Theo started talking about me and you it scared me. I knew if he found out he was right he'd tell the whole school and I'm not ready for that, and neither are you. How could we explain what we are to them all?" he asked her.

Instantly, Hermione's struggling ceased.

"I don't know what to call this, and I don't think you do either. Until _we _know, nobody else can. It's all just too complicated for us to explain at this point, and everyone knowing has some… implications I'm rather keen to avoid," Malfoy said. "This needs to stay between us, private, contained solely in our dorm. I never meant for it to extend outside of that."

The fragments of Hermione's heart just felt like they'd been crushed a little more at that revelation, splintering it into what felt like irreparable shards.

"So yes, when Theo brought it up I panicked and I tried to deny it, and I know I was excessive but that's why I said all those things. I had to lie to him to do the best thing. I didn't mean a word, I promise you," Malfoy finished, squeezing onto her arms for emphasis.

He was staring into her eyes with such truth and regret and sadness burning within them that she had no choice but to believe him, but that didn't numb the pain of his incredibly sharp tongue. Nor did it stop her crying or quell her anger.

She pulled herself out of Malfoy's grip somehow for the second time and walked over to the fireplace, leaning on it and staring at him coldly from a wary distance.

"Fine," she spat. "So you didn't mean it. You still said it. It still hurts."

"I know. I'm so, so sorry, Hermione," Malfoy replied softly, staring at his feet and running his hands through his hair.

"Yeah, I know you are," Hermione answered him, her voice harsh and betraying no hint of compassion. She was too angry at him to feel sorry for him right now.

There was an uncomfortably tense silence while Malfoy tried not to catch her eye and she stared fixedly at him with stony eyes. Hermione's sobs subsided somewhat though a few stray and stubborn tears insisted on falling down her red and sore cheeks.

"You know what? Maybe this is for the best," she said eventually, and Malfoy glanced up at her, curious. "It's like you were saying, we don't know what we are. And let's get realistic; this is all we're ever going to be because it's all so… messy."

Perhaps it was the truth but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"What's the point in pursuing something as fruitless as this then? I guess it's better that what happened tonight happened and that this is over now, before-"

"Wait," Malfoy interrupted, his voice harder than before. "Over?"

"Yes," said Hermione, as though explaining something as simple and obvious as two plus two equals four. "Look, I can believe you didn't mean those things, but it doesn't mean I forgive you for saying them. It just proves that you haven't changed. You were right about us as well; this can only get complicated. If this ever developed beyond what we've got now there'd be so many problems, so it's better for both of us that we just quit while we're ahead. And you've just established that that will never happen anyway, so what's the point in carrying on?"

Malfoy looked agitated. "The point is that I like this, and so do you. Why can't we just enjoy what we've got and accept it for what it is? Maybe we shouldn't worry about it getting complicated in the future because what we've got now is just fine. Nobody ever got anything by going down the 'all or nothing' route. You have to compromise, Granger. I thought _you'd _have known that."

All or nothing? She didn't want it all. She just wanted… oh hell, she didn't know what she wanted. But she knew now that Malfoy didn't want to give her it all. Of course he didn't. But if she knew that then why did it hurt?

"I understand compromise, Malfoy, believe me," she said, more bitterly than she'd intended. "I understand it better than most. But compromise if only going to drag this out. It was going to end at some point, why not now?"

She tried to shut up her hopeless little thoughts about how they could rectify everything but it wasn't enough. She had to do this, it was the right thing to do.

"I don't want it to be over."

Malfoy's voice was quiet, barely there.

"It's not about what you want, it's about what's best," Hermione retorted sharply, sobs threatening to start up again.

Malfoy looked at her and his expression was so full of burning fury that she could practically feel his stare singing her face. His nostrils were flaring slightly and his mouth was set in a hard line.

"Do _you _want this to be over?" he asked finally.

Hermione tried to avoid his gaze by walking over to the other side of the fireplace, dragging her fingers over the cool marble of the mantelpiece as she went.

"That's not important," she mumbled. "All that matters is that it _is _finished-"

"No!" snapped Malfoy. "It doesn't work like that! You don't just click your fingers and decide things; it doesn't end just because _you _say it does!"

"Don't be so childish!" she snarled, glancing back at him. He looked, if possible, even angrier.

"You don't want to stop this Hermione, let's be serious. As long as you want it, face it: no matter what you think you've decided to do, it'll keep happening because you can't help yourself," Malfoy replied.

He said it without any hint of smugness, like it was just a simple fact, and Hermione was getting frustrated once more. Malfoy had just called her some of the worst things imaginable and had basically told her that their… thing (she still had no idea what to call it) would never go anywhere, and now, as she proposed the logical solution of breaking it off, he was objecting vehemently. Surely this was a contradiction? If it could never go anywhere, then it would end at some point, and the earlier the better; the sooner they let go of their odd relationship, the easier it would be to forget it had ever happened. Malfoy had no right to act as though he'd done nothing wrong, like she was the one being unreasonable. He was such an arrogant bastard.

With her blood boiling and a prickly heat overcoming her face and neck, Hermione whirled around to fully face him.

"Oh please," she hissed nastily, anger getting the better of her. "After all the damage you've done tonight you'll be lucky if you ever get within three feet of me again, let alone my bed!"

"I told you I was sorry!" Malfoy said back, his voice rising.

"Yeah well, sometimes sorry just doesn't cut it, and an apology from you – well, let's just say it doesn't mean much. How can I trust anything you ever say to me again? After all," she added maliciously, the venom practically dripping from every word, "once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater, right?"

And then instantly, as soon as the words were out of her mouth, Hermione knew she'd gone too far. Angry and hurt or not, that was the most vicious, most unforgiveable thing she'd ever said to anyone.

At first Malfoy just looked winded and hurt, clearly not able to believe Hermione had said something so horrendous to him. Her stammered attempts at taking back her words and apologising were bouncing right off him, and he didn't seem to notice as she advanced slowly towards him.

But then suddenly, without warning, his wounded expression turned to rage and quick as a flash Malfoy reached out, grabbed her by her shoulders, dragged her across the room and pushed her against the wall by the portrait hole.

She was so confused as to what to feel; should she be mad at him for touching her, apologetic for being so vindictive, still hurt from his earlier insults or scared of what he might do next? She picked scared, and a few tears leaked out of her sore eyes as she watched Malfoy roll up the sleeve of his shirt on his left arm. When he'd pulled the fabric up to his elbow, he held her in place with his right arm and thrust the Dark Mark that marred his pale skin into Hermione's face. She turned away to escape the grotesque nature of it.

"Is this what you wanted to see?" he asked furiously. "Is it? You wanted proof that I'm an evil bastard: well here it is. You want to see it so you know I'm definitely a disgusting, repugnant, Muggle-hating murderer? Fine. Here you go. _Look at it!" _Malfoy roared, and Hermione reluctantly turned to look at it as she continued to cry.

It was as hideous as she'd expected. It just looked… wrong, and sinister and downright evil. But to her surprise, she noticed red and pink patches over what should have been the total black of the brand. It looked like scar tissue in some places, shiny and pink and raw, whereas in other parts it just looked like scratches, some scabbed over and some not as deep.

"It's not proof, Hermione. This isn't me. This one, horrible, repulsive part of me does not make me evil, and it doesn't mean that you're better than me. You _are _better than me, but not because of this. You see? I've tried to burn it off, and it doesn't work. I've tried to scratch it off; it doesn't work. The wounds heal and it looks almost the same as it did before."

Hermione's terrified tears were suddenly mirrored by some of Malfoy's own.

"Don't you think that if I could have gotten rid of it by now, I would? Or if I had a Time-Turner that I'd go back in time and never get it in the first place? I've told you this once already: it makes me feel sick, and it doesn't give you the right to judge me," he hissed. His grip on her seemed to relax a little and his voice gradually got quieter. "You think I don't know how much of a problem this poses for me?" he added, shaking his arm in her face. "Or for us? It's representative of everything that is keeping me from the one person in the entire world that I really give a damn about right now."

Then, despite the circumstances, Hermione's heart seemed to piece itself back together a little, and it soared to heights she could never have imagined as she flew on the strange high of knowing that she was who Malfoy cared about most in the world.

But then he had to bring her back to Earth with a bang.

"You're a filthy Mudblood," Malfoy whispered quietly, his face directly in hers as the horrible words caused tears of shock and hurt to cascade down her cheeks. "What? Weren't you expecting that? I thought that's what you wanted me to say? If that's what you want me to be, Granger, if that's who you think I am, then that's what you can expect. The words of a Death Eater. If it's over with us then I don't have anyone else to be anymore but that. So you see, it can't be over, it can't, because if we're finished then I have no reason to fight who I'm expected to be anymore. I'll just go back to default."

That struck Hermione as not quite true – after all, Voldemort would never accept Malfoy back after everything; he'd surely be killed instead. And whatever she'd said to him during the argument, she did think he'd changed. He'd apologised, hadn't he? A few months ago that would have been a miracle. So she didn't think that if they stopped sleeping together Malfoy would instantly revert back to the arrogant, racist pig he'd been, purely because it seemed impossible to her. But then she understood that Malfoy wasn't telling her what _would _happen; he was revealing to her what his deepest fears were about what _could _happen to him.

And then he finally dropped his mutilated arm away from her face and she felt the pressure of her back against the wall lift to be replaced with pressure on her lips and the sides of her head as Malfoy took her face in his hands and kissed her.

Before everything had a chance to melt away and leave her with nothing but bliss like it usually did with him, Hermione pulled back.

"No. Stop it," she said sternly.

"Shut up, Granger," Malfoy replied.

So she did, much to her initial chagrin. Oh damn it all, Malfoy was right. No matter what she might say or decide, she knew she'd always fall back into Malfoy's deadly honey trap of kisses and touches that could be contradicted by atrocities or horrid words he'd say because she just couldn't help it. It was like her stupid, stupid brain was programmed that way.

He was still a tremendous bastard though. Hermione might have been under his spell and she might have been aware that this was quickly going to head to the bedroom, but that didn't mean she wasn't still furious with him under all the desire she could feel rushing over her.

She could practically feel liquid fury boiling through her veins; anger at being unable to resist him, resentment for all the vile things he'd said tonight, disgust at him shoving her against this wall, and of course, rage at herself for being such a bitch to him before.

And she could feel herself channelling all her aggression into her movements. Malfoy, she noticed, was doing it too. Just as she seized a handful of his white blond locks and pulled his head sharply forwards so she could kiss him deeper, so he grabbed her thighs and yanked her up from her feet, wrapping her legs around his waist and scraping her back hard against the wall. It stung viciously and she broke the kiss to draw in a sharp breath.

Now Malfoy's mouth was free, he took it upon himself to move to her neck and began nipping it and sucking it, and she could feel the flesh bruising and took great delight in it. He ran a wandering hand up the outside of her left thigh, dragging his nails across it and digging them in. Hermione should have felt angry as his nails continued upwards, leaving a trail of angry red and white marks that she couldn't see but she could feel burning, but much to her surprise she found that it was turning her on quite a lot.

Was she crazy? Was she harbouring a secret masochistic streak? It wasn't like she wanted Malfoy to spank her or slap her – she'd really he rather not – but this light amount of soreness was wonderful, blurring the line for her between pleasure and pain.

His hand carried on travelling upwards, still lightly scraping her skin with the occasional nip thrown in for good measure. Malfoy's hand slipped under her school robes that she hadn't changed out of yet and moved up ever higher, to the top of her thigh and up, ghosting over the flesh of her stomach, up to the bottom of her ribcage and still higher, at last drawing tantalisingly close to her breast which seemed to ache for the touch of his hand… and then he stopped.

Hermione actually let out a small whimper of denial and Malfoy looked up at her, flicking his eyebrows up for just a second as if to say "Hah, you deserved that," and then he bent back down to her neck. But instead of kissing it or licking it, he simply pressed his teeth against the skin, scratching it lightly before moving onto somewhere else. Her skin was hot and his mouth was warm and he was teasing her so much that she wanted to slap him and force him to please her properly. So she grabbed his head and pulled his lips off her throat so she could kiss him again.

But still he teased her, refusing to slip his tongue into her mouth as she desired or react when she began using hers. Instead, he kissed her softly, barely even opening his mouth except to occasionally trap her bottom lip between his. Where was the fire she craved? Where had his initial angry, passionate movements gone?

She hadn't noticed that Malfoy had been carrying her anywhere until she felt herself being dropped and she landed on something soft. A glance told her it was a bed, but most unusually it wasn't hers. The duvet covers were emerald green and to her shock she realised she was in Malfoy's bed. She didn't know why that surprised her so, other than that they'd always done it in her bed in the past. This felt foreign, new.

Malfoy began undressing himself as he kissed Hermione in that annoyingly teasing way and once he was naked he started to peel off her robes too. But he was being such a devious prick about it, deliberately brushing against her skin as he took off her clothes and knowing he was working her up but doing nothing to resolve it. He traced her breasts but avoided her nipples, caressed her lower stomach and the inside of her legs but went nowhere near the point at the apex of her thighs where she needed him to go. It was infuriating and she didn't understand why when every other time he'd been so willing to allow her pleasure.

Then at long last Hermione realised that he was doing it to punish her because he was mad at her. Well that was fine, he could be mad if he wanted, but this was becoming slowly unbearable. She had to force him to get more fired up somehow.

So as she leaned her head up to kiss him, she reached down tentatively towards Malfoy's growing erection, somehow still embarrassed by her own willingness to touch him even though this was hardly the first time, and wrapped her hand around it. She felt him shudder lightly which encouraged her to squeeze a little tighter and stroke experimentally along the length of it.

He moaned softly into her mouth as she continued to stroke his length, building up the speed only to slow down and then start all over again. It felt warm and firm and yet curiously soft despite its hardness, and she felt an odd sense of achievement as Malfoy's moans and grunts grew more frequent.

Meanwhile, Hermione bit his lip a little sharply, and she felt him flinch a bit, but she didn't care. As well as trying to coerce him into stopping his teasing, she ached for control, for revenge for all of the times he'd sought to manipulate her or bend her to his will; this time, he'd be putty in _her _hands.

She bit down once more, harder, and he broke away from her, and in response to her moan of loss his lips bruised her neck.

"You little bitch," he hissed as he sucked and kissed her sensitive throat while she raked her hands through his hair and continued to move her hand up and down on his cock. He was getting closer to coming, she could tell.

That was more like it, she thought triumphantly. She'd succeeded because now his teasing had stopped; she'd riled him up and his kissing and grabbing became rougher, more dominant, more powerful, and dear God, she was loving every second.

And then she had the most wicked idea. If he could torment her, why couldn't she do the same to him? She could feel him getting closer to orgasm – his muscles were beginning to tense and his moans were becoming stunted and staccato – and then abruptly she stopped and removed her hand from him, denying him of his release. He seemed too shocked and disappointed to even think of reaching down and finishing the job himself, and Hermione felt both awful and pleased that she'd given him a taste of his own medicine.

He plunged into her so suddenly that she gasped. It hurt a little, but not in a good way. She hadn't been prepared for him to enter her so abruptly because she'd still been relishing her small victory. Malfoy didn't even ask her if she was alright, which shocked her. Normally if she made any sudden sound he'd look up at her with searching eyes to check if she was ok. Now: nothing. He really must have been mad at her, or at least so desperate to come that he didn't immediately care.

Hermione knew enough about Malfoy by now to know that even though it would take him a little while to build up to the point at which he'd been about thirty seconds ago, it wouldn't be too long. But he always stalled and put off his own release so she could have hers. Given his stormy eyes and the frown on his face, Hermione did not think he would be so courteous this evening.

He grabbed her behind the left knee and pulled it up so he could thrust into her more deeply, and his face began to screw up with the effort of his movements. His pounding in and out of her felt as good as it always did, but somehow, the fact that he wasn't kissing her and that he probably wasn't going to let her orgasm hindered the feeling. She knew she had to do something.

She reached up, hooking her arms around his neck, and pulled him down so she could kiss him, and then she _maneuvered_herself so that she was now on top of him. It was not exactly a smooth transition, but eventually she managed it and found herself sat on top of him. She continued to kiss him but she tried to make it softer, and then when Malfoy recommenced his thrusting, it was not quite as rough or as hard.

Removing her lips from his, Hermione stroked a bit of his hair off his clammy forehead and began kissing his neck and his cheeks, and then finally his lips.

Being on top felt a bit strange. But after a few more minutes – because Malfoy had indeed relented and was going to make sure she got her release too – she didn't care, and as beads of sweat began to roll down her body and Malfoy began to move faster, everything was alright again as she was taken away and the tidal wave of tingles and rushing blood and the warm embrace of her orgasm.

About five minutes later as they lay, naked and side-by-side, the final dregs of pleasure ebbing away, Hermione felt everything begin to rush back to her foggy mind. Her most immediate concern was whether or not she was supposed to stay in Malfoy's bed. After all, every time they'd been in hers, he'd always left shortly after they'd finished. She didn't find it rude so much as just a part of the routine. But weren't they supposed to be done with that? What had this been then? Some kind of last hurrah?

She decided she probably should leave. She didn't want to; she wanted to stay lying next to him for the rest of the evening, and possibly the rest of her life. It was a nice feeling usually; to lie there quietly as they both came back down from their high simultaneously, each enjoying the feeling of being close to the other. But of course, this time felt different. It had been different in lots of ways.

The silence did not feel shared or companionable at all. It was like each of them was being silent separately, she thought, if that even made any sense; they were keeping their silence to themselves because they were both still mad and refused to let the other one share it. It was awkward and tense, and then as even more seconds trickled by, stretched out by how uncomfortable the atmosphere was, Hermione began to get mad again.

Malfoy's behaviour had been inexcusable tonight, but then again so had hers. Their fight had been colossal, and while the sex had been an enjoyable (if unexpected) interval, it was not going to solve things indefinitely. She still thought that they should end it all… even if she didn't necessarily want to. Malfoy had initiated the act to silence her, to try and make things better, but not everything could be fixed with sex. The horrible mood in the air right now was testament to that. He had tried, but it had been a futile experiment. Everything that had been said tonight would have to be confronted and discussed, not compartmentalised and avoided to be replaced by physical encounters.

"We're still mad at each other, aren't we?" said Malfoy after a few minutes more of the horrible silence.

"Yep," Hermione confirmed.

They did not need to have another blazing row to check it; this anger was a different kind, a more slow-burning, stretched out kind in the place of the explosive immediacy of their earlier fury.

Hermione got up and got dressed. She didn't know why she was bothering because although it was only about half seven, she was going to go to bed. Malfoy stayed perfectly still, except for when he grabbed his boxers which were hanging off his bedside lamp and slipped them on. Once covered up, he returned to the same position he'd been in before, with his hands behind his head and his legs outstretched in front of him.

Fully clothed, Hermione trod wearily over to his door and, stopping just in front of it, turned round to look at him.

"We'll talk in the morning," she sighed resignedly.

Malfoy simply nodded while staring off into the distance, and then she let herself out.


	34. Truth

**A/N - Happy birthday to me :) I'm seventeen guys, what a bad age. It's practically a non-age. **

**I'm uploading but I won't be again until the 10th of November now. This week is bound to be crazy. I've had an ok time after the shitty times I've been having lately. It's mainly because of an attractive person who's wandered into my life, so staring at him cheers me up. YAY FOR SEXINESS.**

**Btw I hate this chapter. 50 points if you can guess why? (****_hint- check previous author's notes if you don't know. It should be blindingly obvious)_**

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><p>It took Hermione only a second to remember why she felt so numb when she woke up, sweating and panting, from her first nightmare in a very long time. Thoughts of Malfoy bombarded her brain, not giving her a single second of respite before she was strangled and crushed by everything that had gone wrong.<p>

Hermione wasn't even angry when she walked out into the common room to see Malfoy's bedroom door open and the space beyond vacated; of course he wouldn't want to talk about their fight. He never wanted to talk things through.

Her body ached and as she caught sight of her naked self in the mirror just before she got in the shower, she saw all the marks Malfoy had left on her –purpling love-bites, angry red scratches and patterns of light blue bruising – after their rough encounter last night. They didn't give her that profound sense of achievement as they had last time; they just made her feel ashamed and sordid. She hid them with Glamour Charms just before she stepped under the shower spray so she didn't have to see them.

Relaxing in the shower was impossible, so after a mere minute under the water, she got back out.

Lessons crept by in that sluggish way they do when one is dreading something, a fact that Hermione detested. Having to try to concentrate while she was either thinking of Malfoy or in a room with Malfoy was torture. He did not meet her eye once the whole morning and was doing what he did best when they had issues: ignoring them and ignoring her.

At break, Hermione took a trip to see Professor McGonagall to apologise for missing the tutoring appointment the night before. It was not a pleasant encounter; the professor was understandably irritated and Hermione was forced to apologise profusely and lie about getting caught up in homework and forgetting to tell Malfoy as well. To make matters worse, Hermione was not able to fully disguise how miserable she was feeling, and her Head of House mistook her sadness and muted anger for symptoms of illness. After brushing off several enquiries as to her health, Hermione reluctantly rescheduled the missed appointment for tonight and set two evenings a week for Malfoy and she to hold the regular sessions. She'd have to spend two hours in close proximity to Malfoy while trying to pretend like everything was ok. How would she do that?

"Will you be able to get the message to Malfoy before lunchtime?" asked McGonagall as their exchange drew to a close.

The thought of having her first words to him since last night be about something as trivial as tutoring made Hermione squirm. Why was everything so complicated?

"No," Hermione lied quickly. "I don't have any lessons with him until this afternoon."

She did. She had Arithmancy with him in about five minutes.

"Oh, well in that case I'll let him know myself," the professor replied. "Do try to make sure you show up tonight Granger, or I'll have to report this to the Headmaster. Thank you for coming to see me."

It was a clear dismissal, but McGonagall's words reminded Hermione of something very important that in the light of recent events she'd forgotten about.

"Professor?" she asked hesitantly.

McGonagall looked up from her papers.

"Do you… do you know where Professor Dumbledore actually is? I haven't seen him in a while."

It was true. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him. He hadn't been at the heads table during meals for a few weeks at least, and she couldn't help but remember how ill he'd seemed at Christmas.

"He's busy," said McGonagall tightly, pressing her lips thinly together.

Hermione sensed that she shouldn't have asked that question at all, so she nodded and then exited the classroom as hastily as possible. Break was almost over and she knew she should go to Arithmancy, but for the first time in her life she wanted to skip the lesson. She couldn't cope with this. She couldn't deal with Malfoy being so hot and cold with her all the time. They'd go from intimacy to giving each other the cold shoulder, and though she knew she should be furious at his behaviour she just wanted to fix everything with him.

But that fight hadn't been one they could simply gloss over. It had been a collection of the worst things they thought about each other, vocalized and cast into the light, having been removed from the darkest recesses of their minds. And they posed serious problems.

As she rounded the corner to the Arithmancy corridor, cursing the fact that she had not had the nerve to skip the class, Hermione saw something she wished she hadn't.

Theo was leaning against the wall outside Professor Vector's classroom and it made her stop in her tracks. His nose was purple and badly bruised, and she just knew Malfoy had done it. She would have been concerned, maybe even annoyed at Malfoy, if she hadn't been so shocked and not sure what to do about Theo being stood there in the first place.

He saw her the second she appeared in the corridor, and when he did he stepped forward, opened his mouth to say something, but then he stopped and closed it again.

Hermione didn't even know how to deal with him after the previous evening, and he had clearly been waiting outside of her classroom to purposely apprehend her. On top of everything else she was feeling, she had had enough, so she said nothing to him and strode back the way she had come. To hell with Arithmancy. She wanted to curl up in a ball in her common room and cry.

Annoyingly, like every single other time Hermione had tried to get away from him, her escape failed.

"Stop, Hermione," Theo said, stepping in front of her.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Theo, get out of my way," she objected, trying to get around him.

"I can't. I need to talk to you."

He carried on blocking her, stepping in front of her no matter what way she tried to dodge around him until Hermione simply gave up. She had no fight left in her anymore, not today. She felt drained.

"What do you want?" she sighed, exasperatedly.

She looked up at Theo, hating that this was how their first real encounter since their break-up was going to go. She didn't even know whether he'd believed what Malfoy had said to him yesterday. He stared down at her sadly, and she dreaded what the next words to come out of his mouth would be.

"Is it true, Hermione? You and Malfoy?"

Hermione couldn't even look him in the eyes because they were so full of hope that she would tell him _no_, and she couldn't do that.

"Look, can we not do this here?" she answered, playing for more time. Studenst were beginning to drift to their lessons in large groups, and anyone could overhear them, but even so, Hermione just wanted to dodge his question for as long as possible.

She motioned for Theo to follow her and led him out into the nearby courtyard, which was emptying as the last of the students went to classes. She dragged him behind a huge stone pillar where they wouldn't be seen.

Then she looked at him, waiting, still not wanting to give him a straight answer to his question.

Her silence, however, was enough to give away the truth.

"It is, isn't it?"

The utter horror in Theo's voice pierced Hermione's heart like a rusty butcher's knife.

"I thought, after yesterday, that maybe I'd been right all along… but I still thought that maybe you'd tell me I was wrong," he continued, frowning and shaking his head.

Hermione glanced down at her schoolbooks and clutched them tighter in her arms.

"Why him, Hermione?" Theo persisted desolately. "After everything he's done to you, why him?"

"I didn't exactly plan for this to happen!" she snapped, but then softened when she looked up at Theo's sad, sad face once more. But why could no-one understand that she hadn't _chosen _this? "It's all just a bit… complicated."

The wind whistled through the arches in the stone walls of the courtyard as Hermione fell silent, her robes flapping around her in the gale.

"How long has it been going on? No, actually- what even is _it_? Are you his gi- his girlfriend?"

"I don't know what it is," replied Hermione, half-laughing from how stupid that was when phrased aloud.

"Shouldn't you?"

"Probably, yes."

Theo shook his head disbelievingly, then without warning slammed his hand against the stone. Hermione squeaked in alarm.

"Goddamn you, Hermione!" he yelled. Then as quickly as it had come, his anger drained away, like fleeting storm clouds. "So how long _has _it been going on for?"

Once more, she couldn't meet his eye, so looked away under the pretence of gathering her robes more tightly around her.

"A while," she said, in a very small voice.

"Did you even wait until we split up?" That temper sparked back up again. "Or did you just go running straight to him that night, laughing it all up at how convenient it was that now you didn't have to feel guilty about dumping me?"

"Theo, please," said Hermione, "it wasn't like that-"

"No? So did you start earlier then? While we were together maybe?"

Then his eyes widened with fear and Hermione's head shot down.

"You… you didn't…" he begged.

But she couldn't lie to him. Though he might have broken her heart a while ago, he didn't deserve lies.

"The Christmas Ball," was all she could manage to say without choking on tears.

And in that second Hermione felt like she'd have given anything, _anything, _to go back to a few years before, when she had Harry and Ron and Ginny, and when Draco and Theo were just two Slytherins she didn't know very well but that she knew to be horrid; back when they were as two-dimensional as common shapes, when they weren't people she could hurt or care about or damage.

"Why?"

Theo just looked empty now, vapid and hollow and broken and it was her fault, she'd done this. Nothing good had come from her and Malfoy… what had she done?

"I owed him a favour from weeks before, and he asked me to kiss him and I had to honour the deal, I had to say yes-"

"No you didn't, Hermione!" Theo insisted. "You were with me then; if that wasn't a perfectly acceptable reason to say no then what was? Malfoy manipulated you into doing what he wanted and he's probably still doing it now, that's just who he is!"

"He's not the same spiteful person he was at the start of the year, so much of him has changed now," Hermione countered, desperate to defend Malfoy though she could hardly even bear to think about him at that minute.

"No it hasn't! Using people and exploiting them is something that's been an integral part of the Malfoy family code for centuries! They don't care about anyone, only themselves. I mean- you haven't… you haven't slept with him?"

Hermione hung her head in shame, giving Theo the answer wordlessly.

"For fuck's sake, Hermione!"

Then he grabbed her on either side of her face, a little tighter than she would have liked, and forced her to look him in the eye.

"What is wrong with you?"

He was looking at her like she was crazy. Then again, she was sleeping with Malfoy, of course she was crazy.

"I was falling in love with you. I… I _am _in love with you, Hermione," he said gently. "Do you love him?"

There was a question. How the hell was she supposed to know? She could barely stand to be in the same room as him most the time, and just _liking _him caused enough problems. Loving him would be impossible.

She chose simply not to answer him.

"It wasn't as though I chose him over you! You broke up with me, you ended things, so you don't get a say in what choices I make," she replied, slightly terrified by Theo's profession of love. His hands dropped from her face at last.

"I'm allowed to step in if you're making a tremendous mistake, _which you are. _Things won't work with you two. You're the most logical person I know, you must see that?" Theo pressed. "He's a terrible person. Look at what he did to my face if you don't believe me!"

"You were his friend before all of this, you didn't think he was so terrible then," she remarked. "Look, he may have made some bad decisions, he may be rash, but it doesn't make him a bad person."

She mentally accosted herself; she was being too quick to defend Draco when she was supposed to be done with him. But she was just trying to justify her choices so Theo wouldn't think less of her… unless she actually was falling for him. Oh no. But she'd ended it, she'd ended it last night, she couldn't be in love with him…

"You heard the things he said last night."

"Yes, and don't worry, I haven't forgotten," replied Hermione, the sting of his betrayal still fresh in her memory. "But in the long run…"

She knew Malfoy was different. Just because they were over didn't mean she had to make him seem a monster.

"He's grown so much this year. He's become kind, and compassionate and much more tolerant. I mean… after I was attacked in Hogsmeade he barely left my bedside. He saved me, he looked after me and then when I could barely walk he damn near _carried _me back to the common room. You didn't see him but he was-"

"Oh I saw him alright," said Theo, who had been looking sullen all the way through Hermione's speech. "I definitely saw him when he stopped me from visiting you, the prick. He pretty much blocked the door."

What? Theo had tried to visit her but Malfoy hadn't let him in? Why?

Could he have done it out of jealousy? Did that mean things ran deeper for him that just their physical relationship? Draco could be such a blank slate sometimes, so utterly unreadable that just as she managed to convince herself that he felt something for her, he's do something that gave her doubts again. Why was he so difficult?

Theo was getting more agitated, the wind was picking up and Hermione was beginning to get a burning desire to confront Malfoy.

Through all her buzzing thoughts, Theo had still been talking, and now she tuned back in.

"…no right to do that. He didn't know that you didn't want to see me; this is just another problem with him. He's so sure that he knows best all the time. He knew I was sorry about my father's role in it all, and he knew I wanted to explain it but he still wouldn't let me in-"

"Wait, what?" interrupted Hermione. "Your father's role?"

She hadn't seen Theo's father there at all. She would have remembered him.

"Malfoy didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

Theo paled and grabbed a handful of his hair, just like Malfoy did when he was under pressure.

"Did you know that the Order were trying to keep your whereabouts a little… vague?" he asked.

"No. I thought everyone knew I was at school."

"Everyone didn't. So at Christmas when I told my father about you, he may have told his… associates… that he had confirmation of your location. I didn't know that they didn't know for sure where you were or I wouldn't have said anything… I just thought if it was information they were trying to keep quiet they'd have kept tabs on me, considering who my father is…"

"Wait," Hermione said again, piecing it together. "So… so because of your father, they knew for certain where I was, and they organized the attack?"

Theo nodded slowly. He looked as though he was about to be sick, whereas Hermione felt anger unlike anything she had ever known. She didn't blame Theo; he hadn't known what his words would lead to. She was disgusted with his father. What kind of man would exploit his own son for information and then, even when he knew it might upset Theo, had decided to try and kill her? What a horrific human being. If it wasn't for that evil, evil man, Theo wouldn't have dumped her. She may still be with him. She wouldn't have been landed in this awful mess with Draco. She hated him, and she'd never even spoken with him.

And yet… even though she tried to be rational about it, that anger was beginning to bubble at the edges of her thoughts of Theo. It was all ultimately _his _fault. She shouldn't think it, she knew, but it was hard not to.

The longer Hermione's silence got, the more panicked Theo became. The tables had turned now; he was no longer the accusatory one, but the apologetic one.

"I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen. You know I would ever do anything to intentionally hurt you. I didn't know what my dad would do with the information-"

"Just stop," said Hermione, almost tearfully.

The conversation had exhausted her. And then the most awful thought of self-preservation crossed her mind, but she was so weary of dealing with problems that she snatched it up and decided to act on it.

"Do you want to make everything right with me?"

Theo nodded earnestly.

"Then keep my secret."

"What?"

"Don't tell anyone about… about Draco and I," Hermione pleaded. "Please. I don't know what I'll do if people know. There'll be so many problems."

"Hermione, you're asking too much of me," Theo said, sounding strangled.

She was such a bad person.

"I can't cover up for you so you can carry on letting him… letting him… _have you _in secret, I- I can't-"

"I promise you, I ended it. I ended it last night after I heard all those things he said about me," Hermione replied. "I just don't want the world to know, I don't want to be shut out or… I just don't want people to know. Please?"

She hadn't meant for it to happen but now she knew her eyes were sparkling with tears. At first, Theo didn't look like he would agree, but then his gaze tracked the single tear that made its way down Hermione's cheek and his stubborn façade crumbled.

"Fine."

He didn't look at all happy with his decision.

"I'm only doing this for you though, you know that? Not for him. Never for him."

And then he lightly tilted her chin up with his thumb and index finger.

"He doesn't deserve you. But I'm going to keep my silence, because I love you."

Hermione knew what he was going to do, and because of that she was able to turn her face away so that when Theo leant forward to kiss her, his lips only met her cheek.

She felt his warm breath on her ear when he blew out a heaving sigh and then she stepped back, out from behind the pillar. She didn't dare look at his face because she knew that even her gentle rejection must have hurt him. She had never wanted that. She'd never wanted to hurt him; she'd never really wanted him to love her.

"I have to go," she said softly.

She turned her back on him and made her way to her common room, too drained to even contemplate going to Arithmancy. Her life was driving her crazy; she had just skipped a lesson for God's sake. Why couldn't she just have one day where nothing and no-one hurt? Couldn't she have one day without Theo or Ginny or Draco or herself being unhappy?

The way things were right now, it wasn't bloody likely.


	35. Trouble

**A/N - Shoot me, I said the 10th and that was a bit of a fib... I'm bad a schedules because I'm so horrifically lazy. **

**But here's something for you guys, however late it is. Stupid real life is really eating up at my time so I haven't written much of substance in a while, but I promise to make time soon. Thanks to all who enjoyed the last chapter. I'm not sure when the next one will be out. Bear with me and know that I love you and I will update again before Christmas. That is a firm promise. **

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><p>"So she wasn't too happy then?"<p>

"What do you think?" Draco hissed.

He glared at Blaise as he copied down Professor Sinistra's planet charts. They were sharing a desk at the back of theoretical Astronomy, something that Draco had decided would be a good idea at the start of the year, but now he couldn't think why. At the very least, this was one of the few subjects Granger didn't share with him, so he could talk about her without having to actually see her.

"I essentially announced that I don't find her attractive and that she's beneath me, so no, she wasn't exactly pleased."

"Alright, no need to get your knickers in a twist."

Draco eyed Blaise dangerously. Blaise was grating on his last nerve. He concentrated on copying down an illustration of one of Jupiter's moons and trying not to ram his quill into Blaise's eye.

"You just have to apologise to her, don't you? Simple."

Draco regarded Blaise with the most condescending look he could muster.

"Good lord, you're a genius. I'll _apologise_ to her! Why didn't I think of it before? Well done mate, what fan-fucking-tastic advice," he said, clapping Blaise on the back in mock-gratitude.

"No need to be such a twat about it," mumbled Blaise.

"Zabini! Malfoy! Maybe you should keep your mouths shut and concentrate on copying out these diagrams," growled Professor Sinistra, before turning back to the board.

"Hormonal bitch," said Blaise as soon as she'd looked away. "So I take it you tried apologising?"

Draco nodded.

"And?"

"Well clearly it didn't work, or I wouldn't be sat here bitching to you about it," whispered Draco irately. Merlin, Blaise could be dense sometimes.

"Alright! Fuck, who pissed in your pumpkin juice?" retorted Blaise. For once, he seemed genuinely offended. He turned away from Draco and began writing down facts from the board.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered back after a minute. "I'm just irritated. I thought things were going ok with Granger. And then all this shit happened and now she's ended it."

Blaise's head shot up.

"She ended it?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck."

"Tell me about it," said Draco, running a weary hand over his face.

Blaise looked sympathetic. "You alright?"

"Hardly. I don't want this. I need to make everything ok again. I… I need her back, Blaise," Draco confessed.

This caused Blaise to raise his eyebrows slightly, but he didn't say anything, much to Draco's annoyance.

"Any pearls of wisdom you're willing to offer up? Cause right now I'll take anything," he muttered, pretending to concentrate on his work when Professor Sinistra whipped her head around to glare suspiciously at him.

"Aren't you meant to be the girl expert of the two of us?" asked Blaise.

"I've never particularly cared about a girl before, how am I supposed to know what to do when they finish things? Pansy always came crawling back in the end and the others… well, I got rid of them before they could get rid of me. You have to give me some advice mate, anything," Draco said.

Blaise looked thoughtful. Eventually, he answered.

"Show her what she's missing."

"And how do you propose I do that?"

"Boys!" came Professor Sinistra's yell, causing both Draco and Blaise to flinch. "Twenty points from Slytherin for being unable to keep quiet! I wonder if you've been able to copy down this information whilst chatting away back there? Could either of you describe to me the orbit of Callisto?"

Both shook their heads.

"That doesn't surprise me. In that case, I would like you both to write me one roll of parchment on Callisto and the other moons of Jupiter for tomorrow. Maybe that will teach you not to talk during my lessons," she snapped.

"Shit," groaned Blaise as the Professor turned away again. "McGonagall and Slughorn have given me enough homework as it is. There's me not sleeping tonight."

Draco grumbled too. "I already have to do some stupid tutoring thing tonight anyway. I doubt I'll be sleeping either."

"Is that some Head Boy thing?" asked Blaise.

"Yes, unfortunately."

"With Granger?"

"Yes to that too."

Blaise nodded. "Well, have fun with that."

He went back to his work, but Draco did not. He wanted to ask Blaise something now that he remembered.

"Mate?"

Blaise looked up, noting Draco's serious tone.

"We haven't actually discussed this but… I mean…" He paused, uncertain. "You aren't going to go telling people about Granger, are you?"

Blaise smiled. "No. I'm a dick, I admit, but I'm not _that _much of a dick. This is your life and it's not for me to interfere. I won't say anything."

Draco blew out a large breath of relief. But then Blaise's face grew serious.

"But just because I won't, it doesn't mean Theo won't."

Draco felt his stomach drop away, leaving his abdomen empty.

"You really think he would?"

"_Boys!"_

Their third warning had cost them their lunchtime. Blaise and Draco left Professor Sinistra's classroom with aching arms after being forced to write lines for almost an hour. Draco was flexing and relaxing his hand, trying to work the cramp out of it.

"What a bitch," Blaise was saying as they walked down the stairs to grab some kind of food before afternoon lessons. "A tiny little bit of talking and we had to write '_I will learn to keep my mouth shut in lessons' _about a million times."

"Yeah well, let's just be happy she didn't have one of those mental quills like Umbridge had in fifth year. I'd rather have written it non-stop for days than have it carved into my skin," replied Draco.

"True."

Draco's stomach made quite a horrible noise so he sped up. He and Blaise got to the top of the stairs leading down into the Entrance Hall and Draco could smell lunch awaiting him. But then as they were about half-way down the stairs he spotted Theo coming out of the Great Hall and off towards the dungeons. He looked a little dazed and sad.

Draco stopped and, a little further down, Blaise looked back up at him.

"What're you doing?"

"Erm…"

Anger was boiling in him. He needed to go after Theo. He had some words he wanted to say to Theo.

"I forgot I left something back in the dungeons that I need for next lesson, I'll have to give lunch a miss," he said.

Blaise paused for a minute, surveying Draco carefully, but then nodded.

"Ok. I'll see you in a bit."

He left Draco and strode into the Great Hall, whistling as he went. Draco waited until he was completely out of sight before descending the stairs and following the direction Theo had gone, which seemed to lead towards the dungeons anyway. He was probably going back to the common room.

In the haze of the awful state he had been left in with Granger, Draco had almost forgotten about Theo's role in it, though now he had remembered he blamed him entirely. Yes, it had been Draco who had made the horrific statements about Granger that had ultimately ruined everything but it had been Theo who had goaded him into it, Theo who couldn't leave well enough alone...

He followed Theo at a wary distance until he was almost at the dungeons. Then came a stroke of luck as Theo suddenly tripped over his shoelace. He stopped and bent down to tie it once more, and then miraculously the corridor was clear and Draco broke into a run and before he knew it he'd pushed Theo into an empty classroom and pulled out his wand. He used it to lock the door and then, while Theo was still relatively dazed, pointed it at him.

"_Alarte Ascendare!"_

Theo shot into the air with a gasp alarmingly fast but Draco didn't care. He directed his wand so that he came to halt about six feet off the ground and was rotated so he was hung upside down. Theo's wand fell to the floor with a clatter, as did a few spare quills and one ink bottle, as gravity caused the contents of the pockets of Theo's robes to make their way to the ground. Satisfied that his adversary was unarmed, Draco allowed his anger to flow through him, twisting his face up and staring at Theo hatefully.

"What the hell?" Theo yelled, struggling fruitlessly to right himself.

"You fucked _everything _up!" Draco snapped back, jabbing his wand at Theo's dangling frame. "You can't just leave her be, can you? And you can't stay out of my life either. She was the only good thing I had and you made sure she didn't stick around!"

Theo's reddening face turned contemptuous. "You were the one that said those vile things about her, so it isn't my fault if she's dumped you. I just made her realise what a dick you are."

"You made me say all that stuff!"

"Nobody made you do anything!" Theo cried back. "I taunted you, but you didn't have to insult Hermione like that! And the worst part is that if she hadn't have heard you, she wouldn't have known that you'd said it at all, and then she'd still be wandering around with her head in the clouds thinking you're some kind of redeemed soul!"

Draco made the swing before he even thought about anything, keeping his wand pointed at Theo so he stayed elevated. At the contact Theo groaned and swung backwards like a pendulum, swaying to and fro for a little while as Draco shook his aching hand. He hadn't quite made Theo bleed, he noticed, but there was a forming-bruise on his eye now connecting to the one on across his nose.

"See!" Theo spat as his swaying became slower. "You haven't changed! You still act first, think later, and you'll never be the kind of man Granger will want!"

"You don't know anything about what Granger wants," Draco said quietly. "Shut up. Shut up now."

"I know enough. You really think that she'll settle for you, Draco? That you're enough for her? You never will be. You can't offer her nearly enough for her to be happy and you know you can't."

They were true words, Draco knew, but he couldn't handle that they were coming from Theo of all people.

"I could…" Draco muttered desperately. "Maybe I could. I could run away-"

"You can't give her anything! You would run, and have her run with you, and give up everything she has? She wouldn't run with you Draco! She wouldn't run because you aren't worth her leaving everything behind!"

And then in a moment of blind rage all Draco could think of to do was to hurt Theo in every way imaginable, to cause him pure and total agony because everything he was saying was so terribly true and it was killing him…

With a flick of his wand, he ended the spell keeping Theo suspended and watched with sick pleasure as he fell, exhilaratingly fast, and he was waiting for that wonderful moment when he'd hit the ground…

"_Aresto Momentum,_" came a lazy voice from behind him, and Draco turned around to see who had performed the Cushioning Charm that had denied him the sweet satisfaction of seeing Theo smash into the floor.

It was Blaise. Of course it was. Holding his wand out self-righteously and obviously enjoying himself; the lazy smile on his face was testament to that.

Theo had come to a halt a centimetre or two off the floor and now landed with a soft thud, not the smash Draco had been hoping for. He looked up at Blaise who was now looking at him with his head tilted and one eyebrow raised, as if to say _really Draco?_ Then he looked at the crumpled pile that was Theo.

"Alright mate?" he asked casually.

Theo scoffed and then groaned, beginning to pull himself up. Blaise turned back to Draco.

"You think that the best way to get back into Granger's good books is to slam her ex-boy-toy into a stone floor? I honestly thought you were a little smarter than that, Draco," he said.

"You shouldn't have stopped me," Draco growled. He realised with a start that he was shaking with rage.

"Oh I really think I should have, and I'm glad I did. I'd do it again, in fact. You know I genuinely sometimes wonder why Dumbledore made you Head Boy. He really must be getting senile in his old age."

And just like that, Blaise's insult dissolved the rest of Draco's anger and he realised what an idiot he'd been. He could have _killed _Theo for Merlin's sake. Granger would never have him if he was a murderer. Oh hell, that had been close.

"How did you know where I was?" he said, sidestepping his regret carefully by trying to resolve his curiosity.

"You really think I'm stupid, Draco? I know you well enough to know that when you get hungry the only thing that could make you miss a meal must be monumental, not something as trivial as picking up a book for class," said Blaise. "I just thought it was an apology for Granger or something. Then Pansy happened to mention that Theo had just left and it clicked. I just knew you'd be doing something idiotic."

Meanwhile, Theo had picked himself up of the floor and was now pointing his wand at Draco, who turned and defensively mirrored his position. They were stood, deadlocked, each aiming for the other but not daring to fire just yet. Blaise sighed dramatically from behind them.

"Come now gentleman," he said airily. "Wands way please, we wouldn't want any nasty accidents, would we?"

Neither of the boys listened to him.

"I want you to stay away from Granger," Draco demanded. "I don't want you to talk to her or look at her or so much as _think _about her, understood?"

"You're not in a position to make any kind of ultimatums. You can't use your wealth and status to intimidate me Draco; you couldn't at the start of the year and you can't now. But I'll stay away from Granger, just not for you," Theo conceded, though he looked rather angry about it. "We had a little chat today and now I'm not sure I can handle speaking to her."

"When did you speak to her?"

"Just after break. I caught up with her and gave her the lowdown on what a despicable person you are, and then she told me that she'd ended it with you. She said it didn't matter because she knew what you were like now anyway, she'd seen it and she hated you for it. She said that she could never forgive you for last night."

Had Granger really said all that? No. Oh, please no. Draco didn't think he could stand it. She had to forgive him, Draco had to make it better, and Theo had to be lying.

"She didn't say any of that."

"You want to bet?" goaded Theo.

"Will you two stop it?" snapped Blaise finally, actually losing his cool, which was rare. "Theo, stop taunting Draco. He's miserable enough as it is without you being a prick and adding to it. And Draco, let's just leave before you do something stupid again and fuck up any chance you might have to salvage your shipwreck of a relationship."

Reluctantly, Draco lowered his wand a fraction. Theo didn't move, but then dropped his to his side and pocketed it, so Draco did the same. But he didn't turn his back on Theo just yet.

"You won't say anything about me and Granger to anyone."

It was not a request; Draco would not allow Theo to do anything but comply with his will. Theo scowled.

"I already told her I wouldn't. She practically begged me not to; it appears she's embarrassed for her lapse of judgement," spat Theo nastily.

Blaise leapt forwards and seized Draco by each arm to stop him from leaping forward and attacking Theo with his bare hands. He was livid, and sick of Theo taunting him. And mostly, he wanted to lash out because he was terrified that everything Theo was saying might be in any way true.

"Will you just give it a rest?" Blaise yelled, still trying to hold a struggling Draco. "Just get the fuck out of here and leave Draco be!"

Theo bowed low and sarcastically like a horrifically overgrown house-elf, gathered his belongings from the floor and slunk his way across the room. But he couldn't resist one last crack of the whip before leaving.

"You know," he murmured as he passed within arms-reach of Draco (had he, of course, had the use of his arms), "hiding Granger away in the dark like this isn't going to convince her that you're sorry. It's almost a relief. I don't have to do anything to ruin your relationship with her; you're doing it for yourself."

"_Out!"_ roared Blaise as Draco began thrashing around more violently in his grip, desperate to grab Theo and rip him limb from limb.

With a small smirk and a sly chuckle, Theo strode out of the door, and after another minute or so Blaise finally let go of Draco, who stumbled and then fell to the floor.

"I can't believe we never saw how much of a cunt he can be," said Blaise disgustedly, spitting on the floor. "He was so out of order. Everything he said was completely unnecessary."

And while Draco might have agreed, by the same token he wanted to cry or hit himself. Theo was right. Draco could displace the blame for the consequences of last night wherever he wanted, but it was ultimately his fault; like Theo had said, _he _was the one who was ruining things with Granger. It was his fault. It was all his fault.


	36. Love

**A/N - This hasn't been the best festive season ever, but never mind, you don't care about me. Go forth, my pretties, and consume.**

* * *

><p>By dinner Hermione still felt numb and empty. She wasn't fully aware of what was going on around her, barely lucid enough to spoon food into her mouth and chew it. She was one of the last people left still eating dinner, and that was only because she was too cowardly to go down to her common room because <em>he<em> was there. She didn't know why she was putting off the inevitable – for Merlin's sake, she had a two hour tutorial session with him in the library soon – but she just didn't want to be near him until absolutely necessary. She'd spent the better part of the evening in the library making notes and plans for the session later, but that was mainly so that she had something to do which gave her an excuse not to be near him.

Her talk with Theo had given her many questions that were making her rethink having finished things with Malfoy which was the opposite of what she should have wanted. She was supposed to be sensible, damn it, and sensible was to get as far away from Malfoy and all the problems being with him had brought. She just didn't trust herself right now not to buckle to the temptation to tell him to erase last night from his memory and carry on as if nothing had happened.

After another half an hour sat eating her dinner as slowly as she could manage, Hermione could procrastinate no more. Resignedly, she gathered her belongings and trudged her way up to the library where she was supposed to meet the ten students McGonagall had designated for this evening's tutoring. She envied the people she saw walking past her, the people who didn't have to deal with half as much as she had to on a daily basis. Her life was beginning to exhaust her.

Try as she might, Hermione couldn't keep her mind from wandering onto Malfoy after a little while. Why hadn't he said something about Theo's dad? Surely he should have told her as soon as he found out just to spite Theo, or to make sure that Hermione wouldn't want to see him. And then not letting him in to see her was a mystery, because it only really made sense if he had either been jealous of Theo or genuinely concerned that seeing him would have upset her, and she couldn't, wouldn't, let either of those possibilities into the light now that she was trying not to let her resolve crumble. They would mean that he cared.

She steeled herself to see him as she turned the final corner onto the corridor that led to the library. Yes, she'd seen him once or twice during the day when she'd been walking around school, but not close up, not in a confined space, and not for two hours. This was going to be tough.

* * *

><p>Draco saw her come round the corner, and though he'd been expecting her he hadn't been prepared for the feeling that seeing her walk towards him gave him; it was like he had fallen from a great height and had slammed into the ground, knocking all the breath out of his body, and now he was struggling to get air back into his lungs. The pressure on his chest was panicking him. He didn't let it show though. After last year especially, he'd become quite adept at hiding his emotions.<p>

As he gulped down air as though there was a limited amount of it available, he did not move his eyes from her growing figure, staring her down with that piercing glare he'd mastered over his school career. She knew he was doing it too; he could tell from the way her cheeks were colouring slightly and she had her eyes fixed on a point in the distance, like she couldn't see him.

He didn't know why, but he just expected her to say something to him. After all, normally she just couldn't help herself when it came to him; she couldn't hold back those stupid opinions of hers. But she didn't say one word and just walked by and into the library where the ten fifth years were stood looking bored.

It stung. It stung a lot.

Draco had been a royal prick today he knew. He'd ignored her request to talk in the morning because he hadn't wanted to hear more of her bullshit about why she had to break it off with him. He didn't think he could take it again. Even when he tried to make her be quiet by silencing her and seducing her, it didn't work. What was wrong with her? She was too damn headstrong. He was better off without her. But it didn't feel that way.

He reluctantly followed her into the library where she was now dictating which of the students would be seeing her and who would be seeing him. He came to a halt beside her and tried to act bored and uninterested. Their shoulders were almost touching, and it was enough to make him want to turn back around and blow off the stupid tutoring.

Granger hadn't even had the nerve to tell him about it herself, instead sending McGonagall to do her dirty work for her. That had pissed him off. He could admit that it was hypocritical to be angry at her for avoiding him when it was exactly what he was doing to her, but if she was planning on stopping their thing and going back to how it was before then shouldn't she have at least been able to talk business with him? And if she couldn't bring herself to, then that told Draco that she was too upset about him to face him, and therefore _that_ suggested that she hadn't wanted to end things at all. What desperate reasoning he had stooped to.

Now especially, after his conversation with Theo, he was second guessing her more than ever. She hadn't said any of those things about him, had she? If she had, then there was no hope for him. If she hadn't… well then maybe he should apologise again. After all, like he'd realised earlier, everything happening was his fault and his alone, because he was an idiot. He had to make everything better. Or at least, he had to try.

Suddenly he became aware of the cluster of students edging tentatively towards him as though they were afraid he would lash out at them if they surprised him. Then again, he did probably have a tremendous scowl on his face. Their fear annoyed him. Everything did today. Even Blaise had.

"Come on, I haven't got all night!" he growled, and the students hurried towards him, clamouring to take seats at the long wooden table.

He noticed Hermione glance at him reproachfully as she arranged herself at the other end of the desk in the centre of her group, all of whom were looking decidedly more relaxed.

"So what do you want helping with?" Draco asked now that they were all sat around him.

None of them said anything.

"What subject are you all here for help with?"

He said it slowly and patronisingly, not in the mood to play nice. Still, none of the students said anything, glancing at each other nervously and bowing their heads instead.

Fuck. It was going to be a long night.

He eventually found out he was supposed to be helping them with Charms and so he half-heartedly began dropping them tips and instructions on anything he could remember from fifth year. He did an involuntary little smile for a second whilst thinking that Granger had probably spent most of the day making plans for now, and then wiped it off his face when he felt that now familiar little pang of sadness. He wasn't allowed to do that anymore. He didn't want to look at Granger and admit that he was thinking about her and at the same time he wanted to throw apologies at her. He couldn't help it, and a quick glance in her direction made him feel like he'd lost some sort of battle with himself.

She was deep in teaching-mode, enrapturing her five students with the speed of her speech. But he was sure there was something not quite right with that image of her, as though she was missing something; maybe that enthusiastic gleam in her eye or the wild gestures she did with her hands when she was totally immersed in knowledge and happy with it. She seemed distracted.

The two hours were a chore but they eventually came to their conclusion, much to Draco's relief. The library had been deserted by any other students long ago when it had officially closed; McGonagall had told him they had special permission to use it after hours. It had become eerily quiet except for the constant melodic hum that was Granger and her group's occasional chirping, which was irksome compared to the oppressive silence of his students. He dismissed them sharply and all looked relieved to go, and shortly thereafter so did Granger allow her group to leave.

She began packing up her things in no particular rush. Her head was bent over her bag and her uncontrollable hair spilled over her shoulders and it was all he could do to fight the urge to scream at her. Instead, he stuffed his belongings into his bag and made a run for it. He would not embarrass himself by making a scene. If this had to be finished then he would at least leave with his pride, damn it. She seemed so unaffected by it all, so she must have told Theo those things, she must have. She wouldn't care about his remorse.

Draco swept past her, swinging his bag onto his shoulder, and off towards the front of the library and freedom from the smothering want that being close to Granger seemed to create.

"Did you stop Theo from visiting me in the hospital wing?"

The question seemed to have burst from her; it was delivered with haste, as though it had been forced out, but dripped with typical Granger curiosity. It caused Draco to stiffen, stop and turn on his heel.

Even though they were now fifty feet away from each other, Draco felt like he could see the twinkle of slight resentment but total need to know in her brown eyes. He didn't answer the question, but kept looking at her instead. He didn't get a chance to stare at her inquiringly for long because a second later she started walking back towards him and before he knew it he was looking down at her in all her infuriating perfection.

"Did you?" she repeated.

"How did you know about that?"

"So you did then?"

"Yes, I did," Draco huffed, already irritated by the witch though she'd hardly said anything. "How did you know?"

"Theo told me."

What? That wasn't what he said they'd been talking about. Did that mean he'd been lying? Premature relief flooded through him.

"Was this during your little discussion today? Was that why you missed Arithmancy?" he said, aware of how angry he sounded. He couldn't help it.

Granger looked puzzled. "How did you know I spoke to him?"

"You weren't the only one he had a conversation with today. I understand you asked him not to say anything about… about you and me," Draco said, somewhat shakily.

Looking down, as if embarrassed, Granger nodded. "Yes. He sought me out to ask if what you told him yesterday was true, and then when he found out I asked him to keep quiet. It seemed like the best idea." She looked back up. "Why did you speak to him?"

"Similar reasons," Draco said vaguely, as though he hadn't almost killed Theo just a few hours ago. "And I told him to keep out of your way."

For a second, Granger looked incensed, which was a momentary throwback to how she had used to get years ago whenever he called her a Mudblood.

"You had no business doing that, Malfoy," she said in a low voice.

Draco's mouth set into a hard line. "So you want to see him?"

"No," said Granger hastily. "No, he's better off leaving me alone, for his own good."

Whatever that meant, Draco had no idea, but at least it kept Granger out of Theo's way.

"What I mean is that you have no right to tell people whether they can or cannot seek me out, not anymore. I thought you understood that this is over now," she continued.

"I do."

But he couldn't keep his voice from cracking and belying his otherwise indifferent tone. Granger did not soften.

"It doesn't seem like you do. It even seems like you might be… well, that you might be a little bit jealous," she said tentatively.

Draco remembered the last time she'd accused him of jealousy, on Hallowe'en the day he'd seen her kissing one of the twin Weasleys, and how he'd received the same allegation then. He _had _been jealous, but so very in denial about it. And here he was once more, envious indeed, and wondering whether or not to admit it. What did he stand to lose if he owned up? A little of his pride perhaps, but maybe it would be a worthy sacrifice.

Draco was aware he'd been looking at her a little calculatingly, and then grimaced like it was painful and ran his hand through his hair.

"Yes, ok?" he sighed. "I am jealous of Theo. He had you first, didn't he? He's the good guy, the wise choice, the nice one, and I'm… well, I'm me."

_And he would never say such disgusting things about you like I did,_ was something Draco was too ashamed to admit out loud. Granger would probably have been better off if he'd never coerced her into kissing him on Christmas Eve. Even if Theo had still dumped her, seeing her upset over him would probably have made him reconsider his ill decision. But instead Draco had cashed in on her heartbreak and had somehow managed to charm her into accepting his advances.

And now they were both fucked because he wanted to give her so much but couldn't, and, because he couldn't give her everything, Granger would not settle for the feeble arrangement he had grown to depend on. He was so stupid. He had created this mess.

Granger cocked her head and eyed him suspiciously, and he almost didn't dare to think that perhaps he saw her eyes betray a little emotion despite her steely expression. There was another thing he did to ruin everything; he denied and lied and buried the truth from her in mountains of fiction, and it was no wonder she didn't trust him or want to carry on with him anymore.

"Why didn't you tell me about his dad either?" she asked in a small voice.

Draco widened his eyes.

"He told you about that too?"

"Yes."

"He just can't keep his fucking mouth shut, can he?" Draco muttered angrily, shaking his head in disbelief. Then he looked back at Granger, sighing again, and pulled another face. "I thought it would upset you. You'd already been through a lot that weekend and I didn't see the point in getting you worked up again."

Why did she have to be so tempting when she was being so cold? It was killing him.

"I don't understand you," she murmured after a moment.

What did that mean? Had she perhaps taken his sudden surge of honesty to be a sign that he wasn't so awful after all? He wouldn't deserve it if she had, but he so wanted it to be true.

"I don't understand me either," he replied quietly. "You… you do know that I will never regret anything as much as I regret hurting you last night, don't you?"

Granger swallowed then nodded jerkily as Draco's desire to make her see how remorseful he was began to overwhelm him.

"Do you hate me?" he asked softly, needing to know whether she had told Theo this.

Looking at her feet, Granger shook her head resolutely. "No, Draco. You may have hurt me many times in the past, but I don't really think I've ever hated you."

But Draco didn't feel any relief, just a little nausea at the reminder of how much negative history the pair of them had.

Yet he couldn't resist pushing for one last question.

"Do you think you could ever forgive me?"

He made eye contact with her and tried to show her that he didn't just mean for last night; he meant for everything. For being who he was, for saying everything he'd said to hurt her, for acting violently towards her, and for betraying her so frequently.

The silence stretched out until he was drowning in it, and then Granger's eyes flicked to the floor and back again.

"I don't know."

It made him want to cry to hear the genuine uncertainty in her words. He needed to reach out and touch her and show her how sorry he was.

Draco moved a half-step closer and leant down, and their lips met gently as he placed his hands on her neck and traced soft circles on her cheeks with his thumbs, her skin so delicate and her lips warm against his. He couldn't help but press himself against her, longing to feel her warm, yielding body close to his again, feeling as though he had been denied her for an eternity when it had been a mere day. But it felt as precious as though it was his first taste of her after a decade of solitude and he clung to every tiny sensation, from her vanilla smell that he'd come to be so familiar with to the silky softness of her lips.

But she wouldn't surrender. Her hands came firm against his chest and with a hard push he was ripped from her and was left standing too close, looking longingly at the raspberry lips that were no longer his to kiss. She had just made that perfectly clear.

"Why did you do that?" Granger whispered, her eyes glistening with tears.

Oh Merlin, he hadn't meant to hurt her with his selfish need to feel close to her. He had been trying to reconcile with her, to do as Blaise said, to show her what she was missing, not wound her.

"I…I thought…"

He couldn't articulate the desperation he'd had to be near to her. She shook her head and backed away, like she was trying to get to safety.

"You can't do that… not anymore," she mumbled. "Everything is still wrong. Everything won't be fixed with just a kiss."

But then how could it be fixed?

Draco didn't even get time to ask her before she'd fled the empty library, leaving him stood, feeling ashamed, angry and alone.

* * *

><p>There was no way Draco could go back to the common room now, not after that rejection, not so soon, so he decided to go to the Slytherin common room, because where else was he supposed to go? He prowled the familiar path to his old dormitories under a cover of darkness that seemed to blanket and extinguish everything around him, despite the torchlight that did light the way. He couldn't see past the depression that the knowledge that he really was done with Granger brought, and it was like he was surrounded by a thousand Dementors.<p>

Curfew crept closer and closer, but Draco reached the common room just before it fell, not that he would have cared about a detention for being out of bed after hours anyway; stuff like that seemed so trivial now. He wandered inside, hoping that Blaise would be there, and thankfully he was. He didn't look too happy though. He was staring moodily at the fireplace in his favourite high-backed armchair with a glass of something in his hand… something that looked suspiciously like spirits. _Oh no. _

Draco strode across the unusually empty common room and snatched the glass out of his friend's grasp, holding it well out of his reach. Caught off guard, Blaise flinched then looked up to see who had perpetrated the theft of his beverage, relief dawning on his face when he saw that it was Draco.

"Oh, it's only you," he mumbled.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Draco hissed, shaking the stolen glass. "You can't start this again Blaise!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Drinking! Whatever happened that made you start again, it isn't worth this."

Blaise looked taken-aback for a second, then recovered. "Mate, it's just Gillywater. Taste it if you don't believe me."

Draco hesitated then raised the glass to his lips. It was indeed Gillywater. He looked sheepishly at Blaise.

"Sorry. I just assumed…"

"Don't worry. You were very nearly right anyway."

He took his drink back from Draco, who pushed a first year out of his own usual chair and took a seat.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Blaise frowned. "I had a bad afternoon. I came back here and I wanted booze, so I cornered a third year and told him to go and find me something to drink. The naïve little bastard brought me back this." He raised the glass. "It's probably for the best anyway. Can't be having all that drama again."

"Must have been a bad day then," replied Draco, inviting Blaise to talk about it. He didn't seem to want to, however.

"Yeah. But never mind me. How did the tutoring thing go?"

Draco's stomach dropped. He didn't want to relive it. His face must have blanched because Blaise quirked his eyebrows and took a sip of his Gillywater.

"That bad then? What happened?" he inquired.

"I taught a bunch of dim-witted fools some Charms nonsense and tried not to die from the awkwardness. Then Granger asked about me keeping Theo from speaking to her in the hospital and not telling her that his dad played a part in putting her there. She wanted to know why I didn't tell her."

"Heavy stuff," said Blaise. "You didn't tell me you were playing bodyguard to her after she was attacked."

"You didn't ask," Draco said, shrugging it off.

"Fair enough. Did you tell her why you kept it from her?"

Draco nodded. "I told her it was because I was jealous and because I didn't want to upset her."

Blaise pulled a face as though he'd just been impressed by an excellent Quidditch strategy. "Clever."

Draco just nodded, not feeling like telling Blaise he hadn't said it as part of some master-plan to win back Granger; he'd said it because it was the truth.

"Then I told her I was sorry for everything I've ever done to hurt her."

"Bloody hell. You really went all out didn't you?"

Draco ignored the slightly cynical undertone to Blaise's voice. "And then I kissed her."

Blaise spluttered a little as he choked on the Gillywater he'd just sipped.

"You kissed her?" he repeated when he recovered, sounding incredulous.

"Yes," said Draco. "You said to show her what she was missing."

"Yes, but I meant be mature, be respectful, show her the you that made her change her opinion of you, not _thrust_ yourself on her," replied Blaise, as though speaking to a child. "You can't fix everything with one kiss."

"That's what she said," replied Draco, his mouth setting in a hard line. "I thought… I don't know. That maybe if I showed her how I felt about her it would smooth everything over."

Blaise waved his hand, as though to dismiss Draco's last sentence. "It isn't about showing her how _you_ feel. It's about making her realise how _she _feels."

"But… wait." Draco was confused. "How would kissing her not make her realise how she feels about me?"

"Maybe I phrased that wrong," said Blaise, looking thoughtful. "You can't _make _someone understand something. You can lead them there, show them evidence to support it, but they have to arrive at the realisation by themselves, or they won't accept it. Right now, Granger's still mad at you. Or at least, if she isn't mad at you, she's wounded. When someone hurts you, what do you instantly want to do? You want them to go away, or just to stop upsetting you, right?"

Draco nodded, following Blaise's train of thought but not sure where it was leading.

"So when someone hurts you, you know that the most sensible thing to do is cut them out of your life, but usually you're too much of a coward to actually do it. Granger is possibly the most sensible person to ever live. That's why she ended things. Because you hurt her and now she knows the sensible thing to do is to get over you. So what you need to do isn't to show her how you feel – she'll know that, she isn't stupid – you need to make her see that being sensible isn't the best thing for her to do for once," Blaise concluded wisely. "You need to find a way to get her to come to the conclusion that you aren't necessarily the sensible choice, but that you're worth it, but she has to decide that by herself. You can't exactly convince her… but you _can _lead her to that thought on your own."

That sounded impossible. Blaise made a good point, but what was its use if it couldn't be done?

"How on Earth am I supposed to do that?" Draco asked.

"You've got to offer her something that'll lead her to realise that what she'd gain from not being sensible is worth going against what she thinks she should do."

But what could Draco offer her? This was a dilemma he'd thought over time and time again. He couldn't offer her anything but himself, and that clearly wasn't enough. He couldn't date Hermione, or really spend time with her in the open; he couldn't parade her around Hogwarts or anywhere else; he couldn't offer her wealth and security, because being with her meant he could wave goodbye to his inheritance; he couldn't offer her safety, because the Dark Lord wanted them both dead. He couldn't give her anything. He had no leverage.

"I don't have anything to give her," Draco mumbled pathetically.

"You could give her the chance to be with you. To _really _be with you. Officially."

Draco shook his head. "I can't do that."

"But why not?" Blaise exploded suddenly. "What's stopping you? Your mother? She isn't around. The thought of losing your money? How shallow are you?"

"It's my inheritance, Blaise," Draco insisted, shocked by Blaise's abrupt change in mood. "It's enough money to mean I never have to work, I never have to want for anything. It's hundreds of thousands of Galleons. I can't just throw that away on a whim to try and get Granger back."

"Why can't you?" Blaise pushed. "Why do you have to be such a selfish bastard? Why can't you just do what you want and go for who you want and not care about the money?"

"What's wrong with you?" asked Draco suddenly. "Why are you so irritable?"

Blaise glared at Draco. "I'm not."

"Yes you are. What happened to you today?"

He stared at his friend, whose face was clouded with something dark, both grateful for the subject change and apprehensive to hear about what was no doubt something reasonably bad.

At last, Blaise's resolve seemed to fade away.

"It's Daphne."

Draco pulled a face. This wasn't going to be good. "What did you do?"

Blaise took another sip of his drink then put his glass down in disgust, as if offended that it didn't contain something strong and alcoholic. Then he sighed and started drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair.

"I… I bumped into her today. When I was coming back from dinner. She was walking into the common room at the same time as me and we sort of… collided. And I froze up. I haven't been that close to her for a while; I've been keeping out of her way. I mean, I know her schedule so I make a point of being wherever she isn't."

Draco nodded, not wanting to break the flow of Blaise's melancholy tale. He understood going out of one's way to avoid someone better than most.

"But she looked like she'd been crying and I couldn't help it so I asked her what was wrong. She didn't want to say but I made a pretty good show of convincing her that I didn't mind, that I just wanted to know as a friend. Then she told me she'd had a fight with Dean, and I couldn't help but get a little hopeful." Blaise paused and swallowed. "Then I just suddenly remembered what I'd told you to do with Granger, to show her what she was missing, so I-"

"Please, tell me you didn't kiss her," Draco interrupted.

"No! No, I – I told her I still loved her."

Draco was stunned into silence. It wasn't necessarily worse, Draco felt, than kissing her because at least this didn't give Dean an incentive to chase after Blaise and kick his arse, but it was so much more… damaging. For Blaise especially.

"What did she say?"

"She didn't say anything," replied Blaise hollowly. "She just turned around and walked away, like I hadn't said anything at all."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks, but it doesn't exactly mean anything. But at least you know why I'm mad now," Blaise murmured. "I don't want you to do this with Granger. I don't want you to let her go and hate yourself for it, then when you bump into her one day say something as stupid as 'I love you,' and then have her to walk away from you."

"I don't love Granger," said Draco sharply.

Blaise raised an eyebrow but didn't push the topic further. "It still stands. Don't get so wrapped up in what you'll lose and think of what you might gain instead. Because I promise you, losing Granger will ruin you ten times as much as losing your inheritance would."

Draco didn't know how to reply, so he didn't. He let Blaise stare at him pensively for a while before he made his excuses and crept back to his dormitory. Granger's door was closed and there was no light coming from anywhere but he didn't believe for one second that she was asleep. Neither of them would be getting much sleep tonight. He'd do Professor Sinistra's essay, he decided, and make use of his stupid insomnia for once.

He glanced longingly at Granger's door. How he wished he could just walk inside and curl up in her bed next to her. He wanted her back, but he was torn. To have Granger was to abandon his entire life as he knew it. He didn't know if he could do that.


	37. Return

**A/N - Hello my pretties, long time no update :) Feel free to skip this, it might be a rather long a/n**

**First - thank you to ****watsonfordramione**** for reviewing every chapter of the fic in such quick succession. You reminded me why I love to write, and inspired me to hammer out this chapter and get back in the fanfic game. **

**Second - I'm hoping to update this fic more regularly. I'm hoping for monthly, though it might be more regular. I'm going to say for now: ****LB will be updated the third week of every month.**** I have a second fic I'm working on, ****Project Narcissist**** which I'm hoping to update ****the first week of every month. **** You never know, I may surprise you now and update more often now I feel inspired again. **

**That's it for now. Please give a look to Project Narcissist, it's fairly new, only three chapters, but I'm hoping to start increasing the updates soon. And if you could spare a minute, I'd love if you could review this chapter. It's long because I got inspired and couldn't stop going, so let me know. It sees the return of someone I think you all thought I forgot about, but I hadn't. **

_**I've missed you guys.**_

* * *

><p>Hermione found it amazing that one week in Hogwarts could feel so long, and that so much could happen in a mere seven days.<p>

Seven days… was that all it had been since Draco had kissed her in the library, and since she had run from him?

She'd always prided herself on being a strong resilient person, but never in her life had she felt as close to breaking as now.

Hogwarts didn't even feel like home anymore. It was hostile and cold since she'd been attacked, and was colder now that she'd fought with Ginny and had lost Theo, and most of all since she'd pushed Draco away. To top it all, it seemed that fear was driving everyone in the castle crazy – after a small skirmish in the corridor with a Slytherin over his relationship, Dean had been badly jinxed and sent to the hospital wing, and had consequently dropped out of school. The sad part was that he was one of many over the past few days, and as the student body shrunk, so did any remaining positivity and warmth in the castle.

Happiness nowadays was virtually nonexistent, while ever present fear clutched tighter at the hearts of everyone by the day.

Going out of her way to avoid Draco was now something Hermione was becoming increasingly more proficient at doing. It had the unfortunate consequence however of completely isolating her and dominating her life; she was operating on a strict schedule designed to keep her wherever he wasn't, and it meant that almost all of her free time was spent locked in her bedroom. She'd even rescheduled tutoring her half of the students so she wouldn't have to see him in the library. Oddly enough, he wasn't hounding her anymore. In fact, some nights he hadn't even bothered coming back to their common room, and Hermione assumed he was sleeping down in the dungeons instead.

Naturally, she still caught glimpses of him, and they were enough to make her feel like she'd been kicked in the ribs every time. But she always retained her composure, and hid her pain behind a mask of indifference, a blank face and empty eyes.

On the eighth day since the kiss, something very odd happened. Ginny came and sat down next to her at breakfast and without bothering to greet her, looked her dead in the eyes and said "I'm sorry."

Hermione, startled by her presence and completely stuck dumb by her blunt apology, couldn't do anything but nod.

Ginny nodded too. "I am. You were right… I've been a bitch lately. I'm… I'm just a bit lost, and really angry," she said, her voice wavering slightly. "Ever since the start of the year all I've felt is this rage that never goes away, because I've lost my brother and my boyfriend to this whole stupid situation, and I don't know if I'll ever see them again. Things that shouldn't make me angry just trigger it and I can't help it, but I shouldn't have been taking it out on you."

Hermione felt a tiny glimmer of happiness ignite in the pit of her stomach. She understood. She didn't exactly get angry herself, but she did get severely depressed, and that consumed her. Everyone was either sad or mad, and that was just that way it was.

"Thank you, Ginny. It means a lot."

And when Ginny leaned across the small space between them and hugged her, Hermione felt momentarily calm. She'd forgotten what it was like to receive affection, platonic or otherwise. She felt starved, and so she clung on to Ginny for a long time, and when she finally let go, she'd made a few decisions.

She went back to her common room after lessons and took a long bath. It was almost as though she was trying to drown herself. She slipped under the water, into the cavernous expanse of the obscenely huge bathtub, blocking out all the sounds. She closed her eyes and embraced the darkness, almost becoming numb from the pressure of holding her breath for so long…

She stayed under as long as she could, relishing the nothingness, such a contrast from her life outside this room. And then just when she thought she might die- slip off peacefully in her underwater tomb- and her lungs began to scream in protest and the pressure on her ribs grew to vast levels, her survival instinct brought her up to the surface, gasping for air and drinking it in greedily. It was sad now that her one sanctuary, the one place that she could escape from the world, was the bath. Under the water, there was nothing. Not Draco, not their complicated relationship, not Voldemort, not a war. Only silence. And peace.

And then she got dressed, tied up her hair, and walked out into the grounds towards Hagrid's cabin.

When he opened the door at the sound of her knocking, he looked shocked and then upset.

"Finally decided ter visit me, have yeh? I'm flattered. C'mon, get in," he said gruffly, holding open the door.

Hermione guiltily sat down at the table, and Hagrid started making tea, as was his usual routine for guests. But he didn't speak, and Hermione suddenly felt awful. She'd been so caught up in her own life, she had abandoned her friend, her confidant, and it was inexcusable.

"Hagrid… I don't even know how to start apologising," she said quietly.

Hagrid said nothing.

"I'm so sorry for being so rude. I haven't come to see you for so long, and I haven't written you any notes or anything… and I'm very ashamed that I let my own problems consume me. I…"

Her voice caught, and seconds later as she began crying, she felt herself being gathered up by hands like dustbin lids and scooped into the chest of the half-giant.

"There now," Hagrid kept muttering as she cried, and after a few minutes she'd calmed down enough to be released.

"Shouldn'ta made yeh feel so bad, tha' was wrong o' me. I jus worry abou' yeh. How are yeh holdin' up?" he asked as he poured tea, his beetle black eyes wrinkling around the edges with concern.

"I've been better," she replied lamely.

"I'm not surprised. There's bin a lot goin' on with yeh lately. Firs' yeh were attacked, yeh broke up with yeh boyfriend, an' there's a reason why yeh haven't bin ter see me, I'll bet."

Hermione sighed. "I'm in a very bad situation, Hagrid."

"What's goin' on?"

"Do you know Draco Malfoy?"

Hagrid frowned. "Lucius' boy? Who said Buckbeak attacked him? What abou' him?"

Hermione looked at the floor. She needed to talk about this, but how on Earth was she going to start?

"I… We…"

"Has he hurt yeh?"

_Not physically… well, at least not lately. _"No, no," Hermione replied. "I just… over the past few months, there's… well, it's hard to explain-"

"Yeh like him," Hagrid answered for her.

Hermione blinked, staring at Hagrid curiously as her cheeks began to burn. "Yes," she whispered.

Nodding sagely, Hagrid patted her hand. "I'm not goin' ter pretend tha' I approve. He's bin nothin' but trouble fer the three o' yeh since yer firs' day. But yeh can't help who yeh fall fer, even if yeh try ter tell yerself yeh know better."

It was hardly the reaction she'd expected from him, but he seemed to have a wistful look in his eyes and Hermione was certain he was thinking about Madam Maxime.

"I see why it migh' be a bit complicated fer yeh," he continued. "Does he like yeh too?"

Hermione hesitated. "Sometimes, I think so. Other times, I have no idea. It doesn't matter, not really. We were sort of together for a little while. But I ended it. It's impossible, Hagrid. It just can't work. Harry and Ron and Ginny will all hate the idea, and probably hate me too. Nobody will approve, and his parents will shun him and I don't think he can cope with that. Plus, there's a war going on, and we're on two different sides. It's doomed, and I know that… but I can't stop thinking about him," she confessed, unable to meet her friend's eye.

They were silent for a little while, and Hagrid seemed to be struggling to think of a suitable response.

"Yer problem is," he said after a while, "tha' yer so worried abou' wha' everyone else thinks. 'S not easy, I'm not sayin' tha' it is, but if yeh both want something to happen, then yer goin' ter have ter ignore it. People can be nasty, an' I know better than any o' yeh. They judge yeh, and if yer like me yeh nearly resign because yer so worried o' what people think. But yeh can't let 'em make yeh do stuff that makes yer life worse. If yer happy with Malfoy, then yeh gotta forget everyone else."

Hermione didn't think she'd ever heard Hagrid say anything as wise in her life. She was so grateful for his support, and felt doubly guilty for not visiting him in so long when he so clearly cared about her. She lay her tiny hand on top of his shovel side on and squeezed it gently. She didn't know whether she would take Hagrid's advice – Draco had hurt her, with words, with his hands… but he'd also cared for her, like when she was in the hospital. This was too big of a decision for her to make right now, because it would mean such a lifestyle change for them both... but Hagrid had helped her gain a little clarity.

They talked for a while about day to day things, like Grawp and the cabbages Hagrid was growing, and Hermione's lessons, both of them carefully steering the topic away from the war and the Order for the most part – or at least until Hermione remembered a question that had been burrowed in the back of her mind for a long time now.

She tugged on the corner of her sleeve and began picking at the crumbs of a slice of (surprisingly edible) fruit cake on a plate in front of her, and cleared her throat after a minute of comfortable quiet.

"Hagrid," she ventured tentatively. "Is…. Is Dumbledore alright?"

Hagrid's bushy head shot up from where he was making yet more tea. "What d'yeh mean?" he asked gruffly.

"He just never seems to be around anymore. I don't see him a lot."

Hagrid sighed. "He's… he's carryin' on. He's in demand a lot though. The Ministry still want him, the Order need him and o' course he has the school ter look after. It's a lot fer him ter manage, that's all."

Hermione nodded. "He never struck me as _old _before this year, you know? He seems to have aged a lot in a short space of time."

"I know what yeh mean, Hermione."

"It's kind of sad," she finished softly, sipping her tea.

"Yeah, it is," Hagrid agreed.

Hush descended in the cabin.

Hermione left not long after, slightly rattled by the final topic of discussion.

When she got back to her common room there was no sign of Draco – no crack of light under his door, no cloak on the hook by the door, none of his books on his desk – and after her conversation with Hagrid, Hermione decided to chance it, and sit out in the common room and read for a little while, to escape the prison of her room.

A little while later, when she was three chapters deep in a wizarding horror novel, she heard a light tapping, scratching sound that caught her attention. At first, she thought it might have been the fire crackling, but when she extinguished the fire it continued, so she relit it, put her book down, and listened intently. It seemed to be coming from the window, and Hermione thought perhaps it was tree branch brushing against it, before realising no trees grew that close to their common room window. She took out her wand, stood up, and approached the window warily, wondering if it could be something potentially dangerous, but then as she got closer, she saw that it was an owl, tapping its beak against the window.

Surprised and slightly puzzled as to who would be sending her letters, she opened the window and the owl hopped onto the window seat, dropped a tiny, rolled up scrap of parchment on the cushion and then flew off immediately.

Hermione sat down, picked up the parchment and then closed the window as a frigid breeze rushed in. Leaning against the wall, she unfurled the note.

_H,_

_Tonight, midnight, common room. Be there. Be alone._

And that was it. She turned the scrap over, but there was nothing on the back either. She didn't even know who it was from, and now they were demanding she meet them alone in her common room in the middle of the night. She suspected it was probably from the Order, but couldn't they have asked McGonagall to speak to her rather than sending her mysterious notes? It was all a bit puzzling.

After receiving the note, Hermione went back to her room, taking the book with her. At about half past ten she heard the sounds of the shower running and soft thumps of doors opening and closing and objects being moved around and concluded that Malfoy had returned to the common room, for tonight at least. Her conversation with Hagrid lay heavy on her mind, and she wondered if she there was any possible way she and Malfoy could make something work… assuming of course that he wanted to. Maybe her latest rejection would be one too much. Her stomach churned.

Noises from outside ceased at about half past eleven, which Hermione was glad about – she hadn't wanted to have to go and tell Malfoy that she needed him to leave so she could rendezvous with a stranger who had owled her a note – and after double checking Draco was nowhere to be found, Hermione crept into the common room and cast Silencing charms on his closed door so he wouldn't be disturbed by anything that happened. She seated herself in an armchair, hidden in a pool of shadows with her wand in her hand, and waited.

She had been slightly worried that she might drift off while waiting, but she was so nervous and tense and had so much adrenaline pumping around her body that to fall asleep right now would be impossible. The dying embers of the fire hissed softly, popping occasionally, and the clock on the mantle ticked, but otherwise the room was silence, and blanketed in near complete darkness. The faint and only light came from the fireplace and cast shadows of the armchairs and trestle tables nearest to it so that they appeared as great gargoyles climbing up the walls, monsters that could just as easily be guarding Hermione as preying on her.

As the clock hands crept closer to twelve, Hermione became entirely still, her guard at its highest it had been in a long time, just in case of an ambush. Twelve o'clock was welcomed with the gentle chiming of the clock, but with nothing else. Still Hermione did not move. One minute past, two minutes past… then at three minutes past, in her peripheral vision she saw a glow, growing greater with every second, for the ashes in the grate were suddenly beginning to spark until all at once they burst into huge green flames, licking at the fireplace and roaring as they danced until they spat out a figure onto the carpet.

Instantly Hermione was on her feet, wand pointed at her guest.

"_Expelliarmus."_

With her left hand she caught the wand that came spiralling towards her while keeping her own trained on the figure on the rug, who had not yet stood up.

The flames had died back down again to mere embers and the room was draped again in the deceiving fog of the night. The figure began brushing ash and soot off their clothes and pulled themself into a kneeling position. She couldn't see who they were in the darkness and did not dare get any closer.

"Who are you? Who sent you? What do you want?" she demanded, her voice betraying none of the fear she felt.

"Is that how you welcome a guest into your common room? By asking them questions without giving them any time to answer? You could at least offer me a cup of tea," the figure remarked cheekily while straightening up.

Hermione's jaw almost dropped.

"_Fred?"_

"Hello," he replied, and Hermione could tell by his voice that he was smiling.

She waved her wand and a few of the candles lit up, giving her enough light to reveal the familiar face of the Weasley twin, grinning broadly.

"Do you think I could get my wand back?" he asked.

However Hermione was still wary. "Wait a minute. I have to check it's really you. What happened that time you tried to put your name in the Triwizard Cup?"

"Dumbledore's Age Line gave me and Georgie two really brilliant beards," Fred smiled.

"When we were tidying The Burrow's pantry in the summer, what did we discover was the secret behind your mum's chocolate brownies?"

"She makes them with a Muggle cake mix."

"What happened the last time you saw me?"

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"I kissed you then Disapparated."

Satisfied that it was Fred – although now feeling _very_ uncomfortable – Hermione threw his wand back to him and then walked towards him, gesturing for him to take a seat at the nearest armchair while she dragged one closer to the fire to sit opposite him.

He didn't speak, so Hermione asked the most burning question on her mind.

"What are you doing here?"

Fred smiled. "There's something that the Order wanted to tell you about. They were going to pass on the message via McGonagall but when we were discussing it at Headquarters I asked if I could visit you here and tell you instead. They weren't exactly happy about it, but I practically begged them and they let me."

"Why would you do that?" asked Hermione, confused.

"I missed Hogwarts, and it's nice to feel useful lately without having to go and do something dangerous, like a raid or an ambush or something. But also, I thought you and I had some unfinished business. After all, it was time to grow up and speak to you."

Nodding, Hermione was struck with surprise. She didn't know what to say, so stayed quiet and waited for him to speak. Fred cleared his throat slightly, looking uncharacteristically ill at ease, and interlocked his fingers.

"I guess the main thing I wanted to say was that I'm sorry for reacting the way I did, you know, storming off and ignoring you. And kissing you in the first place, I suppose. I started to like you over summer, thought I'd take a shot, and then instead of taking rejection like a man I yelled at you, ignored you and sent back your Christmas present… although it was painful to do that actually, because I damn near cried when I opened it and saw what it was," he grinned. "But yeah, I'm really sorry, and I've missed you. I wanted to know if you could forgive me and we could go back to being friends?"

"I'd like that," she replied with a smiled. "I forgive you. Now let's forget about it. What's the news from the Order?"

"Well, there's some less important stuff I thought we could talk about first," said Fred, looking much more comfortable. "First… well, I don't know if you've heard, but… Ted Tonks is dead."

Hermione gasped. "Oh no. Poor Tonks. How?"

"He'd been on the run for a little while, but Snatchers caught up with him and killed him."

"Snatchers?"

"Oh, yeah, you won't have heard, the Ministry's trying to keep it quiet," Fred replied. "They're groups of wizards, usually Mundungus types, you know, do anything for a couple of Sickles. They go round, rounding up and catching Muggleborns and then take them to the Death Eaters, dead or alive, for a reward."

"That's sick," hissed Hermione.

"It's You-Know-Who, what do you expect? Anyway, it was pure chance we found the group of them with Ted's body. We managed to capture a few of them, though a couple got away, and take Ted's body back for a proper burial. Tonks has named the baby after him. Little Teddy."

"Oh, so she's had the baby then?" Hermione felt her stomach lighten slighty – this was much nicer news.

"Yeah, a couple of days ago. But I think that's about it for updates… except the big thing."

The atmosphere changed, Hermione could feel it as it became more charged with anticipation.

"Big thing?"

"Yes." Fred's voice dropped to a hush, and became even more serious. "Harry and Ron have destroyed one."

"_What?!_"

They'd destroyed a Horcrux? This was big news, and Hermione's heart soared – this was wonderful news.

"And that's not all – they've found another too."

This was the best news Hermione had heard in weeks. Such progress was astounding, and it meant that at the very least the end of the war was getting closer.

"This is incredible! How? When? Where? Why haven't they destroyed the second one?"

Hermione couldn't keep the questions from bubbling over.

Fred explained that no-one knew the full story except Harry and Ron, who didn't want to talk about it in detail, but they'd found the locket through Kreacher, after realising that the initials on the fake stood for Regulus Articurus Black, Sirius's brother. Once they'd found the locket, Dumbledore had given Gryffindor's sword to Harry (as it was imbibed with Basilisk venom) to destroy it, and they'd gotten rid of it. Dumbledore had then helped the two of them break into Gringott's because he had reason to believe another Horcrux was in there, they'd found one, some cup belonging to Helga Hufflepuff, but somehow (and this Harry and Ron didn't want to discuss) they'd lost the sword, so now they had the Horcrux but couldn't destroy it. Dumbledore had been helping them every so often, which explained some of his absence from Hogwarts, and he'd even helped the Ministry cover up the break in to the bank.

Even though they didn't know how to destroy the second Horcrux without the sword, it was great news, and a breakthrough that the Order had been waiting for. Hermione absorbed Fred's tale in silence and stayed quiet even at the end because she couldn't believe what had happened.

"Seeing you lost for words is quite odd," Fred remarked.

"I'm just… this is fantastic news. I'm so happy," Hermione managed to say.

"One last thing though – Harry passed me on a message through Dumbledore. They think there might be another one in the school somewhere. They asked if you could keep an eye out for anything you think might be one, and to have a little look around if you can, and to let them know if you have any brainwaves about it," Fred added.

"I can do that," she replied eagerly, glad to be given a task that could mean she'd be useful for once.

Fred nodded, then looked at the clock. It was quarter past midnight. "I need to go soon. We only set up the Floo temporarily, and we aren't sure how long it'll be secure for."

"Oh, of course," Hermione replied.

She stood up, and then so did Fred. After a second of awkwardness, she reached across and they embraced.

As they stepped apart, Hermione looked up at gangly young man with worried eyes.

"Are things alright with you? With everyone?"

"As good as they can be, all things considered," Fred replied, nodding. "I'm dating a girl called Melanie, working at the shop, helping out with the Order whenever I can."

"Melanie? The girl who works in your shop?"

"Yeah," Fred admitted sheepishly. "I know I said she might be part troll, but she's a really nice person. She's kind and sweet and I really like her."

"That's nice," smiled Hermione sincerely.

"What about you? Did you end up with that Nott bloke?"

Hermione looked at her feet. "Yeah, we went out for a little while but it didn't work out."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is there no-one else?"

"Kind of. But it's really complicated," she hedged.

"How could it possibly be more complicated than going out with a Death Eater's son?" asked Fred wryly.

"You have no idea," she half-laughed, shaking her head. "It's just… it's too impossible to ever work out."

"I see. Well, I'm sorry about that."

He looked genuinely sympathetic, and Hermione nodded her thanks. Then he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a small box which he opened to reveal green Floo powder. He threw it in the fire, looked around suspiciously and then muttered "Grimmauld Place." The fire responded immediately, towering green flames billowing up, spilling out from the grate and nearly blinding Hermione with the sudden burst of light. Fred bent down and placed one foot in the flames, but turned back before stepping entirely into the green blaze.

"Hermione?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"If there was a way to make it work with this other guy, no matter how improbable it might be, would you go for it?"

Hermione thought about it for a second before answering.

"I think I would."

Fred nodded. "If there's any more news, I'll get them to send it through McGonagall. It was brilliant seeing you again."

And then he stepped into the fire, there was another burst of green light and a slight breeze that ruffled Hermione's hair, and Fred was gone.

She stared at the fireplace for a few minutes after he left, even though the room was now entirely dark because the fire had gone out. She wrapped her arms around herself as she grew cold, and then walked back off to her room with a faint smile on her face. Today had been long, and weird, and clarifying. While things with Draco were no more sorted out, at the very least things with Ginny and Hagrid were, and it was great news about the boys.

Maybe things with Draco would be fixed eventually.

Maybe, like Fred said, there might end up being a way to make it work. Because ultimately, it seemed today had proven to her that she did want to make it work with him. Why, she didn't know. But it was true.

She didn't know how that could happen though. Especially since she couldn't even bring herself to speak to him. She was still hurt, and to be apart from him, while hard, did still seem like the best thing.

As she made her way back to her room in the pitch blackness, she didn't notice that Malfoy's door was hanging slightly ajar.


	38. Don't

**A/N - Hello my lovelies. **

**Slightly late, but at least it's here :) Heatwaves in Britain aren't exactly conducive to writing angsty fanfiction, but thank god for thunderstorms! **

**Hope you all like it. I'm actually happy with it, which is rare for me to feel about things I write. Let me know!**

* * *

><p><em>If there was a way to make it work. <em>

_If. _

Was there a way to make it work?

All Draco had been able to think about since the last night when Weasley boy had turned up was his parting exchange with Hermione. Unable to sleep and intending to go for a night time stroll to clear his head, Draco had been taken aback to see the redhead and Hermione chatting in front of the fire. Irritated and jealous too. But mostly curious.

He hadn't understood the majority of what he'd heard – so Potter and the Weasel had found some fancy artifacts, so what? Why were they off treasure hunting anyway? Draco thought they'd been trying to save the world. But then when conversation turned to Theo, and moments later when it moved onto him, he understood perfectly.

She'd said so herself, he'd heard her. If there was some way to make it work with him, she would try it.

It was the tiny pinprick of light at the end of a very long tunnel, although Draco was afraid that the walls were closing in. What could he do? How could he make it work? Granger had summed them up perfectly well when she'd said "impossible." They _were_ impossible. They were opposite ends of the spectrum, black and white, night and day, fire and ice. The list of problems Draco could think of off the top of his head was so endless it made him dizzy.

And yet… how he wanted to bottle up the problems to be dealt with another day and just try it.

All day, all he thought about was her. He didn't see much of her lately, not since she'd taken to hiding from him, but the glimpses he caught were more than enough. Though for a couple of days he'd been laying low himself, taking to sleeping on the couch in the Slytherin common room so he wouldn't have to be so tantalisingly close yet ridiculously cut off from Granger, he was suddenly filled with an almost painful desire to seek her out and tell her that there _was_ a way for them, and he _could _make it work.

It was making him feel almost dizzy. But in spite of this confusion, he could feel his mind seeking out potential pathways that he and Granger could take.

They could keep it secret until the end of the war. They could run away. He could defect. He could visit his vault in Gringotts, take out as much of his fortune as he could and then fall off the map with Granger, and they could live comfortably.

There were ways, he realised now, but all along he'd just been too stubborn or selfish or scared to take them. But he needed to step up now, for Granger. Except… he still wasn't sure he was ready.

By that evening, Draco's head was throbbing and he couldn't bear to be left alone to think anymore. There was only one thing for it.

He practically flew down to the Slytherin Common Room, which, as usual these days, was empty when he arrived, what with all the students who had dropped out now gone and those who remained too scared and depressed to do much socialising.

Scanning the room, Draco could not see Blaise anywhere, so ran to the stairs leading down to the boys' dorms and knocked on the seventh years' door. There was no answer, so Draco stuck his head around it but there was no-one inside. Groaning, he retreated back out into the common room and looked around again, in case he'd missed his friend – not that it was likely given that the room wasn't exactly packed.

"Are you looking for Blaise?"

The quiet voice came from a chair in the corner next to a crystal chess table on a tall glass stand. Draco turned around to see Pansy sat there, staring at the board and idly moving around a pawn.

"Oh, hi Pansy," Draco replied, as politely as he could manage.

The last he'd really heard of her had been that story of Blaise's about the little lap dance she'd given Theo. He'd made it quite clear that she was seducing everything with a pulse because she was trying to get over him. He felt frozen by how awkward this was, but also he felt a twinge of guilt. Did he just hurt every woman in his life? His mother, Pansy, Hermione… He didn't exactly have a great track record.

"He's in a detention with McGonagall. He Transfigured some ropes into snakes like he was supposed to but then he set them on a Hufflepuff. He should be back by about half nine," Pansy was saying now, still fiddling with the chess pieces and not looking at Draco.

"Ah, right. Sounds like Blaise."

He smiled weakly and then wondered whether he should wait here or back in his dorm.

"Aren't you going to sit down?" Pansy asked glumly.

It seemed he'd be waiting here. He sat in a chair on the other side of the chess board.

"How's life?" he asked her.

She looked at him for the first time since the start of the conversation.

"Oh, you know, how it's supposed to be. Long. Boring. Stressful. Yours?"

"Pretty much the same."

In the silence that followed, Draco tried to process how un-Pansylike Pansy was being. Something was wrong with her. He felt like he knew what. He looked at the knight that she was now playing with.

"You play? Chess, I mean?" he said.

Pansy shook her head. "Don't know all the rules. The pieces are quite interesting though."

She raised the knight close to her eye and began to examine it. Draco still felt incredibly uncomfortable.

"I'm not too bad at chess, you know. I could teach you, if you wanted?"

"Don't trouble yourself," Pansy replied with a weak smile.

There was a very long pause before either of them spoke again, where Draco wanted to leave but couldn't bring himself in case it hurt Pansy, but could see that his presence in general was hurting her too. He was just trying to weigh up which was the lesser of two evils when Pansy suddenly put down the glass pieces, placed her hands in her lap and spoke.

"I know what you think of me, Draco."

Draco's eyebrows knitted together. "What do you mean?"

"I know what you – and the rest of the school – have heard about me. I know everyone thinks I'm some kind of slut with no moral compass. I know they think I'm desperate and pathetic and ridiculous. I know everyone laughs about me behind my back. I know you think I'm a mess," she said softly.

"I don't think you're a mess," Draco replied.

"It's ok that you do-"

"No, I don't," he insisted. "I won't lie. I don't think you're the most stable of people, especially not lately. But you aren't a mess. You're just confused and sad and lost, and a lot of that is my fault for how I treated you. I'm sorry that I did what I did. I don't think you're a mess. I just feel sorry for you."

Pansy laughed humourlessly. "Somehow that's worse, Draco. For a long time I thought that you liked me, or maybe even loved me… but now all that's left is pity."

Not knowing what to say now, Draco stayed quiet.

"Have you heard of something called the five stages of grief?" Pansy said.

Draco shook his head.

"It's basically this idea that anyone facing a loss goes through five distinct stages of grief. And technically I guess you could call what I'm daoing grieving, although it isn't like you're actually dead."

Once more, Draco felt unbearably guilty.

"There's denial, which I did. Then there's anger –when I confronted Granger in the Great Hall, when I started slutting it up. Next is depression, and I guess you could say that's where I'm at now," she continued, and hearing her talk about her own downward spiral so candidly made Draco uneasy. "And the last stage is acceptance, but I don't think I'll be there for a little while."

Even though he wasn't exactly a mathematical genius, Draco was quick enough to work out Pansy's error.

"You said there were five stages. You've only told me four," he said.

"Ah," Pansy replied. She suddenly sat up very straight and looked him dead in the eye. "That's because the fourth stage is bargaining. You know, like 'Give me a chance, I can change,' and all that stuff."

"Pansy," Draco warned.

Pansy held up her hand and looked at him sadly. "I don't want to beg you, Draco. I don't do begging. Not… well, not with words at least."

And then her mouth was on his, and he couldn't even bring himself to push her off him because he was so shocked. She was kissing him, but he wasn't kissing her back; his lips were motionless against hers as they seemed to fight him for some kind of response.

She began murmuring against his lips.

"Please, Draco, please. We can just be this. I just want to be close to you again."

And it was her desperate whispering that allowed him to pull himself together and push her gently away.

"No."

That was all he said, soft yet firm, and Pansy bowed her head.

Draco grabbed her hand and squeezed it lightly.

"I'm sorry that I don't want you like you want me. And I'm sorry I did this to you. And this isn't pity – it's remorse," he said. "But I think I'm going to leave you alone for a while. Because I don't want to fuck you up any more than I have. You're still my friend Pansy, and you're a good person really."

Pansy managed a watery chuckle.

"Maybe just really deep down," Draco smiled. He kissed the top of her head, still feeling uncomfortable and terrible but somehow relieved because he'd finally told her what was going on.

And then he left, not bothering to wait for Blaise.

He hadn't planned to speak to Granger this evening but it was by happy coincidence that when he walked into the common room, she was walking out of the bathroom. She froze up when she saw him, and the room became silent until the portrait hole thudded softly shut behind Draco.

He had no idea what to say or what to do and neither did Granger, because she still hadn't moved. In fact, Draco didn't even think she'd blinked.

"I kissed Pansy."

Instantly he could have kicked himself that _those _words were the first that tumbled out of his mouth after a week of silence and what seemed like an eternity of complication, especially since _those _words had made Granger's eyes bulge and her mouth quiver.

"_What?"_

"I mean, rather… well, she kissed me, actually," Draco backtracked. "Just now. In the Slytherin common room."

Her eyes misting over with tears, Granger nodded and looked at the floor. "Well, it's probably for the best. I hope you two are very happy together."

And she started off towards her room, but Draco couldn't let her disappear now, thinking what she was thinking, not now that all of his troubled day's analysing was manifesting itself into ideas and propositions that were threatening to tumble out of his mouth whether or not Granger would be nearby to hear them, and it would be so much more convenient if she did.

"No, stop, it's not what you think… look, will you sit down for a minute? Please? There's a lot of things I want to say," he gabbled, grazing her shoulder as he stood like a sheepdog attempting to herd her away from her room.

There was a terrible moment of hesitation where Draco thought she might refuse, but then she turned around and sat down on the nearest couch. He dragged over a chair and sat too.

How the hell was he even supposed to begin this? He wished he had some kind of speech prepared. He took a deep breath.

"I wanted to tell you the truth. Lies, dishonesty, cover-ups… there's too many of them with us. They're poison. I want to tell you the truth about some things Granger, and the truth about everything from this point onwards. I want you to know that you can trust me."

She was looking at her hands, which were clasped and resting on her knees, her thumbs rolling around in circles. When she didn't respond, Draco ran a hand through his hair and carried on.

"I heard you last night. With Weasley."

Hermione looked up.

"How? I put a Silencing Charm on your door," she said.

"I don't often sleep very well. Sometimes I go for walks in the night because it helps. I saw him when I was setting off. I know it's rude to eavesdrop, but you were talking about Theo and then you were – well, I thought you were talking about me."

She paused, looking terrified, and then slowly nodded.

"And you said that if there was a way to make it work with me…" he began, afraid to finish in case she denied it. She didn't say anything.

"I thought you didn't want me after that thing in the library. And you've called it off so many times, you've run away from me. I thought you didn't want me, but then last night, to hear that you did… It fucked with my head. So I went to talk with my friend Blaise. He knows about… He knows enough about me and you to understand. But he wasn't there. Pansy was. She seemed sad, and I talked to her, and then she kissed me and I pushed her away.

"The thing with Pansy is that she makes me feel so worthless," he continued, looking at the floor. "She reminds me of what a terrible person I am, and how shit I can make people feel. When she kissed me, I felt that I don't want to ever make you feel like that, but then I realised that I already have. Hundreds of times. And whenever I remember that, I get scared, because I don't see how you could ever forget that or get past that and see me as I am now. That's why I get distant. Not because of your birth, or the fact that you're a Gryffindor or in the Order… It's selfish really. I push you away because I don't want to remember how bad I was."

He glanced up at her, but she wasn't looking at him. She didn't even seem to be taking in what he was saying. Was his rambling having any effect? He wasn't even finished. He pressed on anyway.

"I realised tonight that I… I want… no – I _need_ you in my life, Granger."

With eyes still cloudy with tears, she glanced up at him through the curtain of her hair and he felt his face heat up and he couldn't meet her eye. He was bearing his soul here.

"No-one else. Not Pansy, not anybody. Just you. For a while, I didn't think I could do it. I know if word ever got out about us, I would lose my inheritance and my family would shun me, and I'd be hunted and killed for betrayal by Death Eaters. I know that you'd want me to switch my alliance, but it isn't that simple for me. Just the thought has me terrified. But you wouldn't understand," he added, his voice suddenly gaining a bitter edge. "You've never been alone in your whole life. You have Potter and Weasley and your family, and your little house full of heroes: Gryffindor, and then as if that wasn't enough you have the Order too. You don't know how it feels to be isolated."

"Yes I do," she said firmly, sitting bolt upright for the first time since they'd started speaking. "Why do you always think that you're right, and that you're the only person who's ever felt abandoned?"

Her anger had blossomed out of nowhere and there was fury in her eyes.

"I don't have Harry and Ron anymore, you know I don't. They're not here. My parents… well, they aren't around anymore," she said, her voice cracking. "I can't speak to anyone in my house about how I feel, not even Ginny, because there are things I'm not allowed to tell them. And don't think you're the only person who will feel consequences for what we've done. Do you think people will really understand and accept that Harry Potter's best friend slept with the son of a Death Eater in the middle of a war? This is fraternising with the enemy of the highest order."

For some reason she laughed suddenly at her own words, and then shook her head in disgust, probably at him for being so self-centred.

"I know how it feels to be alone. Because right now, I am. It's just me."

"But that's what I've been trying to tell you," Draco insisted, his speech gaining intensity. "You could have me, too."

"You don't mean that," she said indifferently.

"Yes, I do," he replied firmly, trying to convey with his eyes how serious he was. She could have, already did have, every single part of him, if only she wanted it. They could be alone together, and it wouldn't be so bad. "Haven't you been listening to a single word I've been saying? I've thought about this – I know what could potentially happen, I know the risks and the challenges and the consequences. And I'm telling you, I've considered them, and I still come back to the same conclusion: that I'm fucking terrified, but a world without you terrifies me even more."

Silence met this revelation, and Draco watched a myriad of emotions skitter over Hermione's face; hope, confusion, disbelief, happiness, worry… and then finally she settled on uncertainty.

"But… how? How can we do this? It sounds too hard to manage," she replied, sounding defeated.

"I don't have an answer to that. All I can think of to do is, well, to not think about it. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. When the war ends, we deal with it then. We don't tell people because it's dangerous. For both of us. We don't label this, because it's too hard to figure that out right now. We just get to be happy, for as long as we can, knowing that we want each other, and that that's ok," Draco suggested.

Still, Hermione looked uncertain. She bit her lip.

"Think about it, Hermione," he said softly, standing up and crossing the space between them, sitting next to her on the couch.

She gazed at him warily.

"Don't be sensible, Granger. Don't even think. Don't overanalyse. Don't worry. Let's just enjoy the relative safety of now. It's ok to give in."

He cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb across it gently.

"No more lies, no more secrets… well, no more bad ones, anyway."

His forehead was resting on hers, and her breath hitched. Her eyes were wide and only an inch away from his own as he swallowed hard and looked at her beautiful brown irises, then at her lightly freckled nose, then resting at last on her lips.

"Just this."

Their lips met and they fell back together as easily as if they'd never been apart. The feeling of her hands in his white hair, her little nibbles on his lip, the way she was squeezing him tight as though she never wanted to let go – he'd missed it more than he could comprehend. Hell, even as he was touching her now he was desperate for more, to be closer, to practically melt into her warm skin, soft and smooth and creamy as butter.

In a haze of pulling and stumbling and desperate kissing they made their way to her bedroom, falling onto her bed with a soft thump and then clawing at each other's clothes, the final barriers to their reunion.

As their bodies moved together, perspiration beading up on their skin and moans and gasps torn from their lips, Draco felt that he'd never been happier, never felt more complete, than he was when Hermione was naked beneath him and was completely and utterly his in the rawest sense possible. She seemed to feel the same if the way she grabbed him and clung to him was any indication, marking him as hers with bruising kisses, bites and scratches, and the sting of pain that accompanied them felt as delightfully agonising as if she was burning into him with a red hot poker that read "Property of Granger."

When at last they lay, panting and exhausted, side by side on top of the crimson sheets, Draco did what felt natural and shuffled over to Hermione's side, curling around her and hooking his arm around her waist. Her skin was still damp and she smelled like vanilla, as always. To his great delight, she wiggled herself so that she was as close to him as she could manage, and placed her hand over the one Draco had on her waist. They were tessellated perfectly together. Draco wondered if any other girl would fit against him as exactly as Granger did. He doubted it.

He kissed her shoulder, brushing a strand of her hair off it, and he saw her smile briefly, though her eyes were closed. He nestled down next to her, too tired to think of moving.

After only moments, the slowing of Hermione's breathing indicated she was asleep, and soon after Draco felt himself drift off, a smile still spread across his face, and his body still wrapped around Hermione's as they slept together, in the purest way, for the first time.


	39. Confess

**A/N - Hello babies. Sadness leads to fanfiction being born so here you go. I like this chapter. It reminds me of some of my own relationships. **

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><p>Peaceful, blissful nothingness.<p>

For the first time in a long time, Hermione was waking up not with a jolt, sweating and gasping and thanking her lucky stars that it had only been a dream, but slowly, gently; she was naturally rousing, greeting the morning as it was meant to be greeted – as a nuisance, disturbing the haven of a nightmare free night's sleep.

In fact, she didn't even want to open her eyes. She didn't want to ruin it. Nightmares had become routine – she had one nearly every night nowadays – and she didn't know why she hadn't had one, and especially why she felt so content.

And then she realised she could feel warm, bare flesh against her back, and the light pressure of an arm on her waist, connected to a wrist, connected to a hand, connected to fingers that were delicately brushing her stomach, and she knew that the whole thing was connected to a boy who should not be in her bed.

They didn't_ sleep _together.

That was when she bolted upright.

Her sudden movement jostled him and he woke, groaning and stretching, his eyes fluttering until all of a sudden they flew wide open and he began glancing around him in apparent disbelief at the crimson bedcovers, and his hand was quickly retracted from her body.

There they were, in silence, him with his back to the daylight now streaming through the window that brought with it so many complications and questions and statuses as yet undefined and suddenly Hermione wanted to throw herself out of it. Why was she always so stupid?

The look on his own face seemed to reflect the kind of strangled panic Hermione was beginning to feel. And yet through it all, she couldn't help but realise that Draco in the morning, fresh from sleep, was nothing like she'd thought he'd be. Because though she might have previously denied it, she had thought about it. With his hair less sleek than usual, all rumpled and natural, and his face slightly marked from lying face down on the sheets, he looked softer and more delicate than she had ever seen him. It was like seeing an animal in their natural habitat, except it was tainted because of course this wasn't natural; it was the most _un_natural thing that had ever happened. A horrific trespass of an unspoken promise to leave, always leave, after something happened between them hung in the air, thick like smoke, and just as suffocating.

Still they were both just sat there, stupidly and silently, asking questions with glances that neither could nor would say out loud and that neither could really answer – What now? Why had this happened? What did it mean? Suddenly, everything had changed and the about face was forcing them to answer the questions they had vowed to put to bed last night, before they had gone to bed and ruined the chance to try something before they had even really begun.

Before she knew what she was doing, she had gotten out of bed and was hastily pulling on her clothes, eager not to be naked any more under the cold, unforgiving light of day. She didn't know why this felt so massive – after all, hadn't it been just last night that they had decided to be happy together? But they'd said happy, not intimate. Not romantic. Not… not love. And this seemed like something people who were in love did, not what people who were just being happy did.

And she had no idea why _she_ was getting dressed, why _she _was leaving, because it was _her _room and _he_ was the intruder, but she needed to escape and think. She still had her back to him because she couldn't look at him right now. What the hell had she been thinking? And why did she want to cry now she was about to leave?

As she turned the handle on her bedroom door, she heard Draco speak up from behind her.

"You don't have to leave."

She turned around and saw that he was dressed now too. He must have followed her lead.

Fighting to ignore the lump in her throat, Hermione shook her head.

"You're right. I don't," she said.

A glimmer of hope flickered in his eyes, grey like stormy oceans. Then she opened the door and held it out.

"It's my room," she continued tonelessly. "You leave."

There was a moment where it was as though they were static pieces on a chess board waiting for a hand to reach out of the air and adjust them for the next move. He stared at her hand on the door handle, his face blank, and she tried to keep tears from spilling out of her eyes as she kept her gaze trained on him. Then he left, and she closed the door behind him, got back in her bed, bunched the covers up around her and started to cry.

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><p>Staring at the emerald duvet, Draco could feel himself turning green. He wanted to be sick. She'd kicked him out. Why had she kicked him out? He angrily kicked his chest of drawers. Now back in his own room, he would have given anything to still be across the common room in hers.<p>

After last night, what he'd said to her, he'd thought he was finally going to get what he wanted. He'd laid it out on the line, told her he needed her and she'd responded just how he'd hoped… and now all of a sudden she'd done a complete turn around and he was still reeling. What had he done wrong?

He wracked his brains thinking of what he could have done to scare her.

He'd gone about his confession all wrong. He'd said that he needed her, that he wanted to have her… in fact, he'd even bloody well told her it was "just this," just the sex, just the physical, just the want… of course she'd run away when it seemed like there was something else but desire between them. Somehow he'd made it seem like a transaction or a business proposal, an agreement just to help each other out in a way.

Good Lord, he was a monster. Had he made her feel like a slut? Was that why she had run, because she thought he only needed her for what she could give him sexually? That he'd only stayed the night because she'd agreed, like he was doing her a favour for finally giving in? That was the last thing he'd wanted her to think. He'd never even said the words "I like you, Granger." What was wrong with him? How the hell had he ended up so emotionally repressed? He'd do anything to make Granger happy, anything, and yet he couldn't even manage to spit out that he liked her as a person, beyond her body.

He needed to fix this.

But then again… why did he always have to fix everything? Why was it never Hermione's fault? After all, it was he who had finally told her how he felt, he who had been willing to give it a go, he who had finally worked up the courage to acknowledge the thing that had been growing between them for some time. Maybe he had to just face the terrifying fact that no matter what he did to convince her, Hermione just couldn't give him what he wanted. Maybe not because she didn't want to, but just because she was scared. She continually pushed him away whenever he tried… maybe he just had to realise that he had to give up. He couldn't have her.

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><p>"I found out something today," Ginny said softly.<p>

The quiet in the Great Hall was overwhelming. It was Saturday evening and there should have been a deafening roar swelling up around them, but the past month or so things had been gradually getting quieter as the student body grew more depressed and scared.

Hermione looked up, her interest not really piqued but glad to have something to think about other than Draco. All she'd done all day was hide in her room, crying and fretting until she'd decided to leave for dinner. Draco's door had been closed when she'd left.

"Hm?"

"Theo dropped out," Ginny whispered.

"What?"

"I know. Apparently it was a few days ago. He just disappeared. His trunk's gone from his dorm and everything. He's just another in a long line. Plenty of Slytherins with questionable parents have been vanishing lately. Three guesses why they're leaving," she said.

The revelation didn't make Hermione sad, per se; it was more like concerned. She had liked Theo. He was nice. And now his dad had probably pulled him out of school to coerce him into strengthening Voldemort's ranks. She shivered. This was real.

This _was _real.

The realisation hit her and it shouldn't have been surprising. After all, what were the boys doing hunting Horcruxes if the war was not real, and why were people dying if the war was not real?

And why had Draco been willing to try to make it work with her, knowing the difficulties and dangers, if it wasn't real?

How she felt about him was real too. It wasn't just fun. It wasn't just about being happy for the time being. It was knowing that despite all odds, somehow she had begun to fall for Draco, and that was tangible and real. It was knowing that she didn't have a nightmare when she slept by his side, knowing that it had taken a lot for him to say what he'd said last night, knowing that when she kissed him it felt like both being punched in the stomach and being lifted out of this horrific set of circumstances to somewhere safe and warm.

It was about knowing that they had been through so much in the past months together, from despising each other to beginning to learn about each other to actually liking each other, and that's he'd held a bedside vigil for her when she'd been in hospital, and that when he'd said he'd kissed Pansy she'd felt a part of her die inside.

Everything was about having him.

And now she'd gone and kicked him out of her room this morning and made him think… oh god, she didn't even know what she'd made him think.

Hermione stood up hastily. "I'm really sorry Ginny, but I have to go. It's important."

And then she was racing back to their common room. If he could do it, so could she. It was about time too. She was an idiot and fickle and spent too much time worrying about what ifs and not enough time accepting what was happening now.

She yelled the password and the lion and the snake and stumbled through the portrait hole, then ran straight for Draco's door. She turned the handle. It was locked.

Desperately, she knocked on the door and only silence met the echoing raps.

"Draco?"

Nothing. She knocked again, her knuckles stinging from banging on the hard wood.

"Please Draco, please, I'm so sorry. Open the door," she cried.

Still there was silence, and she knocked insistently again, slumping to the floor as she kept banging on the door.

"I know you're in there. I'm so sorry about this morning," she gabbled. "Please, open up the door, there are things you have to know, I have to say something."

Suddenly there was no hard wood against her knuckles. She looked up and Draco was staring down at her, his eyes betraying no hint of emotion, his hand still on the door handle. She rose slowly to her feet.

"Can I come in?"

He nodded and stepped aside and she hesitantly crossed the threshold. Her knuckles were on fire and she looked down to see that she'd broken the skin from rapping so hard on his door; fine veins of blood were beginning to blossom on the grazes.

She sat on the edge of his bed, her bleeding right hand clasped in her left and when she saw Draco still stood by the door, arms folded, she lightly patted the mattress next to her. Narrowing his eyes, he slowly walked over to her and took a seat, keeping a careful distance between them.

Now she was here, Hermione didn't know where to start.

"I- Oh Merlin this is hard. I'm… I'm really, really sorry about this morning," she said finally, after a few moments of awkward silence.

There was a pause. "Yes, you mentioned that as you were hammering on my door," Draco replied coldly.

She sighed. "I shouldn't have kicked you out. I just… I didn't know what to do. We've… we've never done that before."

Hermione glanced up at him. He wasn't looking at her.

"Last night, you were saying how we should just be happy, and just have what we had, and I wanted that. But then, when you stayed the night, it wasn't just that. It was suddenly something else, this thing, this… well, this connection we hadn't had before and I didn't know what that meant. It was more caring than what I thought we were going for."

"I see."

Draco's voice was still monotone.

"You're bleeding by the way, did you know?" he added.

"Yes, but that's not the point," she said. "The point is that I thought I wanted to try something with you exactly like you suggested. I thought I wanted to not think and just do what we were doing and figure it all out later."

"And that's not what you want now, is it?" Draco interrupted, his voice sharp and cold like a razor blade.

"No."

"Right. Fine." Draco stood up, walked over to his door and held it open. "I know you know what this gesture means. It's my room. You leave," he said, repeating her heartless words from this morning.

She followed the path he had walked but stood directly in front of him, looking him in the eye and not exiting his room, though he still held the door.

"What I want now is what we did. I want to be happy with you and I want that to include how we used to be… but also, when we wake up in the morning I… I don't want you to leave. And I don't want _me_ to leave. Because surely… well, surely that's better than what we used to do, you know, sex and then leaving? It's all a bit more… normal."

He was abruptly looking her up and down, as though analysing her to see if she actually meant what he thought she meant.

"Unless that's not what you want," she hastily backpedalled. "You said you needed me, but if what I'm suggesting isn't what you mean by that then-"

"I shouldn't have said that I needed you," Draco said. "That's not what I meant. Well, it is, but… What I actually meant to say is that…" He took a deep breath. "I like you. I like spending time with you. I like how you make me feel. I liked sleeping next to you last night. And I'd like to not leave you… as long as you'd still like to not leave me."

Finally it was as though sunlight had burst through clouds and Hermione could see things for the first time in a while, illuminated clearly and laid out in a straightforward manner. Draco likedher. He didn't need her or want her, no, he actually_ liked _her. She smiled up at him.

"That's what I want. Because I like you too," she admitted shyly.

It was not the most articulate conversation she had ever had, nor had it been the most clear – there had still been a lot of hedging and avoiding certain topics – but it had provided a clarity that she had never before had with Draco.

He took his hand off the door and placed it under her chin, tilting her head up, and kissed her softly. She placed her hand on his cheek.

"So, we like each other," he said, as though testing out the words. "Glad we finally sorted that one out."

They both laughed and looked at their feet. This was unchartered territory. They were so used to having to wade through a flood of uncertain emotions and suppressed desires that now things were out in the open they weren't sure what to do.

"I'm going to go down to dinner, I guess," Draco said. "I haven't eaten all day."

"I've just been," Hermione replied. "I'll stay here."

"Ok. I'll see you later then?"

Hermione nodded, and then Draco kissed her again and then left.

Later that night, after doing her homework, showering and getting into her pyjamas, Hermione walked out into the common room. Draco was sat at his desk, scribbling away on a piece of parchment.

"Hey," she said.

He looked up. "Hi."

"Are you- Do you want to come to bed?" she asked timidly, unable to look him in the eye.

When, with flaming cheeks, she finally found the courage to glance at his face, he was smiling and leaning back in his chair, quill left forgotten on his desk. He nodded slowly, then got up and walked across the room to join her. He took her hand and led her over to his bedroom, and as he pulled her through the doorway he bent down the kiss her, his hands on her waist and neck and hers in his hair, and as they made their way to his bed, he kicked the door shut behind him, and the enchanted candles in the common room flickered, sputtered, then went out.


	40. Lake

**A/N - Hello darlings**

**In news - I've finished plotting all the following chapters so there shouldn't be a horrific two month long wait (ahh, sorry) between each chapter. Looking at the plan it seems like there will only be about seven or eight more chapters until LB is finally finished which makes me happy and sad. **

**Enjoy the shameless fluff.**

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><p>They were, at last, heading into spring; a few daffodils, bluebells and snowdrops sprung up, dotted around the edge of the Forbidden Forest and near Hagrid's cabin, though it appeared that while the earth was aware of the approaching season, the weather was not. It was still overcast and rainy, and the days were still lamentably short.<p>

The Easter holidays had crept up on Hermione and before she knew it, it was the final day before the break and she was sat in the library, surrounded by any book that she could think might have even a fleeting reference to Horcruxes in it. Her days had been divided between doing her school work, researching Horcruxes and then in the evenings, relishing the secret time she got to spend with Draco. And it hadn't just been sex either. Given their rocky start, they'd been getting to know each other properly, filling in the gaps of their knowledge of each other.

Right now, her head was about ready to explode. There was nothing in any of the hundreds of books she'd looked through so far. She'd been considering asking Professor McGonagall for a note so she could look through books from the Restricted Section but at the moment she didn't hold much hope. Giving up for the day, she put back the books she'd borrowed, gathered up her things and made her way back to the common room. She kept her eyes on the floor to cover up the smile that was creeping over her face as she got closer and closer to the common room, practically beaming by the time she reached the portrait hole.

It had barely thudded shut behind her when she heard Draco come bounding out of his room like an excitable puppy, his steps quickly slowing to what he probably deemed a more acceptably cool pace. She had her back to him and supressed a light giggle as she hung up her cloak, before turning around to see him leaning against the back of the couch.

"Hi," she smiled.

"Hi yourself."

"How's your day been?" she asked, slowly stepping a little closer to him.

"Better now," Draco replied with a smirk, mirroring her movements.

"Can you believe it's already the holidays? Time has really flown, it's almost exam season-"

"Stop talking," he interrupted, smirking again. He was now upon her and was kissing her like he hadn't seen her in years.

Hermione pushed him away, flushed. "That was rude," she said, though she was forcing back a wry smile. "It's impolite to interrupt people."

"Sorry," he said, bowing and backing away from her. "Better?"

"Not exactly."

He laughed at her and crossed his arms, leaning back on the couch again. "I can't believe you're seriously thinking about the exams already. You have a one-track mind, Granger. And they say that's just the boys."

She stared at him indignantly. "It isn't long, you know. The N.E.W.T. final exams are next term, that's only a few weeks away. I can't believe I'm so behind, I usually start revising months ahead of time… I guess I forgot in the middle of everything else."

She hitched her book-bag a little higher onto her shoulder and walked over to her desk, dumping it down on the chair. As she unpacked her school books, she heard Draco chuckling lightly.

"Come on. You seriously think that they're going to go ahead with exams this year? Given the state of everything?"

Hermione whipped around. "Don't be absurd, of course they will. They're run by the Ministry, not the school. They're fundamental qualifications. Without them we haven't a hope in hell of getting any decent job."

Draco looked half incredulous, half amused. "Granger, we'll be lucky if we make it to the end of the school year full stop, let alone if we make it to the end having sat exams. And to be perfectly honest, I don't think the Dark Lord will take into consideration how many N.E.W.T.s you have when he's deciding who to-"

He stopped, the smile slipping from his face as he looked up at Hermione's scowl.

"So you think he's going to win?"

"Please, Hermione, let's not. I didn't mean to start a fight," he said, walking over to her and lightly touching her cheek. "I'm sorry. Look, let's just forget this. You know, I think you're the only person in the entire world who would argue so passionately against the cancellation of exams."

She couldn't bring herself to smile, so she just nodded, and Draco sighed before looking around, like he was literally searching the room for a change of subject.

"Hey, actually, I've been thinking about something lately and I wanted to put it to you."

She looked up.

"How would you feel about the idea of us going out to do something sometime?"

"Out?"

"Yeah. Like, outside the common room."

"So… like a date, then?" Hermione asked tentatively.

There was a slight pause. "If that's what you want to call it then, I suppose, yeah. A date."

"Erm… ok," she said, nodding. "That'd be nice."

_And improbable, _she thought. Hadn't he said that they were going to keep it secret for the time being? This didn't really scream "secret" – he wanted them to hang out _outside _the common room. She didn't see how they could get away with it… but maybe it was an offer for far in the future, and if that was the case then she guessed it was a nice sentiment.

* * *

><p>Draco didn't miss the Slytherin dorms much at all. Of course, they were luxurious and lavish and comfortable, but the green glow on the stone wasn't nearly as welcoming as the warm light of the fire flickering in the grate of his new common room. He looked around, noticing for the first time the greenish grey of the stone that unlike most of the rooms in the castle was oddly devoid of almost any portraits or tapestries, and tapped his foot impatiently.<p>

"You here to pick me up, Draco? What is this, a date? Be warned, I don't give it up easily. My mother warned me about boys like you."

Draco turned to see Blaise stood, hands in pockets, by the entrance to the boys dorms.

"Well, what if I buy you dinner first?"

"Consider my knickers dropped," Blaise smiled, walking over to join his friend and then continuing on to the door. "I'd be a fool to turn down that deal. How are things, stranger? I haven't seen much of you in a while. You've stopped sleeping on the couch too. Miss Muggleborn take you back, did she?"

Draco hushed him furiously, glancing around to see if anyone was nearby. Luckily, they were completely alone.

"Oops, sorry," Blaise grimaced. "Keeping things quiet, I see? I mean… assuming there are _things_ to keep quiet?"

"I took your advice. Is that what you want to hear, you narcissist? I listened to you and gave her the chance to try and have something with me, but I don't know what it is, and we've agreed that's best, and we're also keeping it quiet," he briefly explained.

"No need for the frustrated tone, mate… do you really hate it that much when I'm right?" Blaise grinned. "So that's why I've not been able to have any alone time with my Ferret then? Because she's been entertaining _your _little Ferret?"

"You're disgusting."

"Is that not what you call it? Little Draco, maybe? Merlin?"

It took several punches to the arm to shut Blaise up, but he was still smiling when they entered the Great Hall.

"You seem… peppy," Draco finally ventured when they took seats at the Slytherin table. It was, naturally, half empty, given that the Slytherin population of Hogwarts had been steadily declining over the past few weeks, but that just meant that they could talk freely without fear of being overheard.

"Am I a twelve year old girl? I'm not 'peppy.' I'm just in a good mood," Blaise joked.

"It's the same thing. Last time we really spoke you were almost back on the bottle and now all of a sudden you're a ray of bloody sunshine. What's up?" asked Draco.

"Don't make me say it, I might vomit up a vital organ."

"Say what?"

"That I might have actually missed you a little bit. Isolation from Daphne and fighting a constant urge to knock back a Firewhiskey or knock a nail in my head to stop thinking about her can make even the best of us, and by that I of course mean me, feel a little bit shit. Human contact – well, technically it's contact with the wildlife, no offense, mate – can do wonders for your mood," Blaise conceded, unable to make eye contact with Draco.

"I think that might have been the most insulting compliment anyone has ever given me," Draco said, miming wiping away a tear.

Blaise punched his arm. "Shut up. Twat."

Moments later a hush descended over the already rather quiet Hall. It was at Dumbledore's signal; from his chair he had raised his left hand for silence.

"Fuck me," said Blaise, somewhat crudely expressing what most of the students in the Hall were thinking. "I know he's about a million years old, but he looks like shit."

There were indeed a few gasps and murmurs; Dumbledore hadn't been seen much at meals or around the school for the past few months, and now they could see why. It was evident that he was gravely ill. Even from the distance Draco could see how grey his face looked, and though, as Blaise had mentioned, he was obviously rather old to begin with, he appeared to have aged fifty more years since the last time Draco remembered seeing him.

Now he was struggling to get to his feet, and Professor McGonagall, seated at his right hand side, looked worriedly at him, as did the majority of other teachers. He managed to stand up, looking like an infant learning to walk for the first time, gripped the table, and finally stood upright.

"Welcome to another of our spectacular feasts," he said, his voice no longer holding the same rapturous resonance it had used to. "We may perhaps be smaller in number than we are accustomed to, but nevertheless, we can enjoy an excuse to gorge ourselves on some delicious delicacies, and in particular, a treacle tart I am most looking forward to."

His whole left arm, Draco noticed now, was hanging limply at his side.

"I must keep this speech short; as you may have noticed, I appear to be a little under the weather."

"That's putting it lightly," muttered Blaise.

"Therefore I shall say only one more thing: many of you are heading home tomorrow to visit your loved ones for the Easter holidays. But I ask that you remember that Hogwarts will always be open to you; as a home, a sanctuary, and indeed, as a family."

And then he fell back into his chair almost gratefully, while the teachers nearest to him fussed around him, leaving him waving his right hand at them dismissively.

Draco looked over the food that had suddenly appeared and at Hermione, who was already staring at him wide–eyed. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and she nodded at him and turned back to her table.

Blaise was loading up his plate and Draco began to take some food too. The room was slightly noisier than it had been in a long while, probably due to students speculating over their Headmaster's condition, and Draco couldn't help himself from looking up at Hermione every few minutes. After not very long of this, Blaise dropped his fork loudly on the table.

"Merlin mate, if you're trying to keep things with Gryffindor's princess quiet then you might want to try being less obvious with the moony eyes."

"Shut up."

"Just trying to help."

There was a bit of a pause.

"So what exactly went on with you and Granger then?" asked Blaise in slightly hushed tones. "How did you manage to work it all out?"

Draco chewed pensively.

"Pansy kissed me."

Blaise nearly choked on some potatoes.

"What?"

"Yeah. I was skulking around the common room looking for you and then we talked and she kissed me."

"So let me get this straight… you managed to kiss your ex-fuck buddy and this somehow helped you sort things out with your new one?" Blaise asked incredulously.

"Granger isn't my fuck-buddy, you vile bastard," Draco snapped, slamming his cutlery down and glaring at his friend.

Oddly enough, Blaise was smirking. "So then what exactly is she? Do you love her?"

Draco groaned. He'd just walked right into an interrogation.

* * *

><p><em>Thud, <em>went the portrait hole, then came the creak of his bedroom door and the gentle pounding of Draco's feet on the floor, and then they slowed down to the gentle, cool saunter, and Hermione turned, smiling. It was like a carefully choreographed dance.

"Sorry I've been gone a while," Hermione said, walking over to Draco and kissing him on the cheek. "I went to Gryffindor Tower for a bit to catch up with some friends."

She sat down on an armchair but Draco stayed stood up. "Aren't you going to sit down?" she asked.

"Yeah, I suppose." He sat down on the arm of the sofa and Hermione noticed that he had an odd gleam in his eye and a half smile playing around his lips.

"Fancy a game?" she asked, gesturing to the wooden chess set on a side table. "We'll see if I can catch up, you've won far too many games for my liking. I can't understand why I'm so bad at it."

"We've played rather a lot of chess lately, don't you think?"

It was true. They'd played almost every evening for the past few days.

"Fair enough. Exploding snap then? I think I have a pack in my room somewhere-"

Draco shook his head. "You know you have a pack in your room, we played it on Tuesday night, don't you remember?"

"Oh, yes," said Hermione, slightly deflated that Draco kept shooting down her suggestions. But she also felt the tiniest bit apologetic. "I'm sorry, I don't know what else to suggest. There's nothing much else we can do while we're in here."

"I know there isn't. And I know that you must be getting a bit stir-crazy being cooped up in here all the time. I certainly am. But I have a plan," he said casually, though the way he was running his hands through his hair suggested he was anxious. "Come on, I'll show you."

Getting up off the sofa arm, he bent down to take Hermione's hand and led her towards the portrait hole, stopping just in front of it to take their cloaks down from the coat rack.

"Why are you taking our cloaks?"

Draco didn't answer but simply handed her the cloak then continued to lead her down the corridors by the hand. She put it on reluctantly, tying it around her neck, but couldn't help but protest.

"Draco, it's almost curfew, we can't be out of our dorms. What if we get caught?" she asked anxiously.

"We won't," he said.

"We might! And even if we aren't," she said, panting slightly from keeping up with being towed, "what if someone sees us like this? You're holding my hand!" she whispered.

"I'm sure they'll just think it's the Head Boy and Girl out on their patrol for the night. And besides, like you said, it's almost curfew. Who's going to be in the corridors to see us?" he replied.

He didn't speak at all after that, and Hermione kept looking nervously around, expecting to see someone jump out from around every corner and spot them, but nobody did. They were heading down to the dungeons, Hermione realised now, though she had no idea why.

"Where are we going?"

"Shh," Draco whispered. "Come on, we're nearly there. Actually," he stopped, and at last let go of her hand, "one second."

He took out his wand, muttered the words of a spell and then tapped Hermione on the head with it; immediately she felt like an egg had been cracked over her head, and she recognised that Draco was casting a Disillusionment Charm on her. He then twirled his wand around himself and suddenly he had disappeared and Hermione was all alone in the corridor.

"Draco?"

"I'm still here," came a murmur from in front of her. "Where are you?"

There was a moment's pause and then she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Found you," came Draco's voice.

She felt his hand feel its way down her arm for her hand, which he took once more, and then they set off again. Soon they came to the dungeons and Hermione could see her and Draco's disembodied breath misting in the cold.

"Where are we?" she whispered.

"We're near my old dorm… hang on a minute."

The ghostly grip on her hand was suddenly gone. After almost a minute of nothing, she heard a small "aha!" and the suddenly a whole section of the dungeon wall had disintegrated, revealing a dark tunnel.

"What on earth is that?" Hermione breathed.

"Secret passage. Come on."

Locating her by her billowing breath, Draco felt for her hand again and led her into the tunnel.

"This is so horrifically wrong, we must be breaking about a hundred rules," she muttered as they walked. "We shouldn't leave the castle, it's not safe!"

"Trust me, it's worth it. There's wards around the castle grounds anyway, we'll be fine," Draco insisted.

"Draco, tell me, where are we going?"

"You'll see."

He wouldn't answer any more of her protests after that, except to tell her that the passageway was a secret known only to a few Slytherins, mostly those whose families had been in the house for generations.

After a few more minutes of walking, a dim shaft of moonlight appeared in the distance and soon enough Draco led her out of a small cave-like opening in a rock in the middle of a grove of trees. The opening in the rock seemed to disappear the moment they had stepped out of it. A tap on her head and a glance back down at her now visible hand meant that Draco had lifted the charm, and now he was leading her carefully out of the tree grove and onto, what was unmistakably, the pebbly shores of the lake.

Finally letting go of her hand, Draco let Hermione walk ahead of him, right up to the edge of the waters, and marvel at the moonlight on the top of the almost completely still surface.

"The Slytherin dorm is just underneath the lake, I guess that's why the passageway comes out here. It's not part of the shore that you can access from the grounds… or at least, not easily," she heard Draco explain from behind her. "And we can't be seen from the school either. All these trees keep it pretty well hidden here, plus we're on a slight slope, so we're hidden by the rise of the land anyway."

Turning around, Hermione saw the vague silhouette of the castle in the darkness over the top of a thick copse of trees behind her. They did seem incredibly well concealed. Then she noticed a dark shape on the shore a little way in front of her and to her left, where the ground was less pebbly and grassier.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing to the shadow.

"Oh, yeah. That."

Waving his wand, Draco sent out six small, softly glowing balls of light into a circle around the shadow, revealed a few laid out tartan blankets, a pile of others, folded up neatly, in pastel shades, and a basket of bottles of Butterbeer and pumpkin juice, boxes of Cauldron Cakes and pumpkin pasties and various other foods.

"Did you do this?"

Draco shrugged. "You were gone a while after the feast. I had time."

Hermione felt a flutter in her stomach. "How long have you had this planned?"

He shrugged again. "Not long really. It was just something that popped into my head a few days ago and I thought you might think it was nice."

"Well, I do."

Draco nodded, looking slightly embarrassed, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Do you want to sit down?"

Hermione nodded, and sat down on the laid out blankets. Draco joined her.

"Did you get this from the kitchens?" she asked, gesturing to the food.

"Yeah," Draco said, leaning over her, grabbing two bottles of Butterbeer and opening them with a tap from his wand. "I know it's technically against the rules but..." He left the statement hanging and shrugged once more. "Crabbe and Goyle and I used to come out here every so often when we were younger. We'd grab some food from the kitchen and come out here in the middle of the night for the sake of it. Of course neither of them knew about the passage until I told them. Guess their fathers didn't think they could remember anything as complicated as finding it and learning how to open it. They were probably right though." He took a sip of his drink and leaned his forearms on his knees, both hands clasped around the bottle. "You're much better company than those two meatheads ever were anyway," he said, looking up at her.

She smiled and tentatively leaned in, meeting Draco's lips very softly. One of his hands came up to the side of her head, resting in her curls, and she could taste the warm, sweet Butterbeer in his mouth.

A little later on, after casting a few Warming Charms around them as it grew colder, Draco and Hermione were lying side by side, crumbs and pieces of cakes littered around them, most of them the result of a misdirected throw aimed at a mouth, looking up at the remarkably clear sky. Stargazing side by side reminded Hermione of her date months ago with Theo in the Room of Requirement. How long ago that seemed now. And that night felt like the mere shadow of right now, containing only a fragment of the feeling and a sliver of the sentiment that she was experiencing with Draco. Not to say that she hadn't had feelings for Theo… but what she felt now with Draco was something else entirely.

She slipped her right hand into Draco's left and he squeezed it gently.

"Alright, Miss I-passed-the-Astronomy-exam-with-a-million-per-cent, what's that one?"

"That's not even a constellation, that's just a bunch of stars," Hermione laughed. "But if you look slightly to the left you can see Lyra very faintly."

"Oh, I actually know this one though," said Draco, pointing somewhere else.

"Which one?"

"That one. That's me."

Following Draco's finger, she noticed that he was pointing at the constellation Draco.

"So it is," she replied. "Draco."

He looked to his left and she could see right into his grey eyes, and she noticed how they were flecked with sky blue at the edges and how he actually had rather thick eyelashes, and she kissed the very tip on his nose. He kissed her forehead and then for the thousandth time their lips were together, crushed into each other, their hands grabbing at cloaks and hair and arms, constellations forgotten.

Shortly later, the water was lapping gently at the shore, delicately kissing the pebbles, and the moon was a chalk smudge on the blue-black canvas of the sky now that wispy clouds had drifted lazily across it, and the two of them were still lying down, but facing each other, and snug now under a heap of blankets. Draco stroked Hermione's cheek softly with his thumb, moving it down to her neck and then to her shoulder, pushing back the fabric of her clothes to touch the bare skin.

"You have a little scar here, did you know that?"

"Yeah," Hermione murmured sleepily. "I can't remember where this one's from though. I have a few."

"Where else?"

"Well there's one on my leg, my calf."

He pulled up the blankets and pulled down Hermione's knee high school socks to examine her legs. Sure enough, there was a long, thin, white scar down the length of her left calf.

"What's this one from?" he asked, tracing his finger lightly over the mark.

"I cut myself on a piece of glass sticking out of a window frame. I was only a little girl. There was this old, abandoned building a little way from my house where all my friends used to play. Mum told me I was never allowed to play there myself but I didn't listen to her, and then one day I was climbing through a window and I cut myself. I ran bleeding all the way back home but when I got there it had healed up. That was the first time I ever thought I might be different or special. I was so scared of what my mum would say and I realise now that I magically healed myself. You know, before I could control my magic. I never went there again."

Her voice seemed to catch when she spoke of her mother but Draco didn't question it.

It was times like this that she couldn't help but be amazed by how far they had come. This time last year if someone had told her she'd be lying down on a bed of blankets on a stargazing date with Draco Malfoy talking about her life in the Muggle world, she'd never have believed them. But Hermione was savouring this moment, where nothing was complicated, nothing hurt, and it was just the two of them under some blankets, like nothing else mattered.

"I wonder if Dumbledore will get better," she muttered through the haze of impending sleep.

"I hope so," Draco said, lying back down.

Very soon, the sky above them became tinged with pink as the first rays of sun began to creep over the horizon, like fingers grasping at the earth as it dragged itself up. A combination of being lightly shaken by Draco and the growing light of morning woke her from her light sleep.

"It's time to go inside."

Reluctantly, she got up, used her wand to fold the blankets and to help Draco shrink the basket and leftover food and float them along behind them as he opened up the passageway in the rock and they made their way back to the castle. The trip back seemed shorter than the way there, and as they emerged into the dungeon, neither of them were very cautious about heading back to their dorm; it was too early for anyone to be up on a Saturday, and there were so few people left in the castle now people had gone home for the holidays it hardly seemed likely that they'd meet anyone. Half asleep, Hermione stumbled through the portrait hole, only to feel herself be scooped up. Draco had thrown the shrunken basket and the blankets on the sofa and was carrying her to his bedroom, where he tucked her carefully under the duvet, climbed


	41. Fear

**AN - Hello my lovelies, we become strangers far too often these days. So if my calculations are correct then there are only seven more chapters left until we're finished. And this chapter will be followed by another very soon because it was kind of only a bit of what I was planning to be in this chapter, but then it was longer than anticipated so I split it into two. So yeah, I hope you all had a fab Christmas and that 2014 brings you nice things, as well as it being the year that brings the completion of this fic. :)**

* * *

><p>The nicest thing about being able to freely express their feelings for each other were moments like these, Draco thought, when they weren't even talking or even fully aware of each other's presence, but when affection would find its way distractedly between them, like a leaf spiralling through the wind. They were sat on opposite ends of their sofa under a red gingham blanket that Hermione was mostly hogging (not that Draco minded because she was like a human furnace anyway) with their legs tangled together. They were both reading separately, she some dusty old book that looked completely boring but, of course, that she was engrossed in, and he his Transfiguration textbook for some set reading, though he couldn't help looking up at her every now and again. Occasionally she would rub her foot slightly along his calf, or look at him over the top of the book and smile, and that was what he liked best. It made him feel like the mere sight or touch of him was bringing her comfort, and that was exactly how he felt about her. He lightly squeezed her bended knee through the top of the blanket, and she smiled while still reading, and he went back to his book.<p>

It was only a short while later that Draco heard something. He put his book down and sat up a little, straining to hear something. Hermione looked up at him curiously for a second, then continued to read.

At first, the sound was like a distant tapping, but as it grew louder Draco recognised it as the thumping of footsteps, and from the rhythm and volume it was someone who was walking with purpose, verging on the point of running. That Draco could hear it in the corridor through the walls of the common room alarmed him. Someone was obviously in a hurry. It was only when he heard a muffled cry of "Return to your dormitory now, Mr Flanagan. All students must return to their dorms at once!" did he jump up at the voice.

"Is that Professor McGonagall?" asked Hermione, hastily abandoning her book upon hearing the voice.

Draco barely had time to get up off the sofa and look less incriminating, and then the professor had spoken the password and was stood in front of them.

Hermione stood up too, untangling herself from the blanket and throwing it down on the sofa. "Professor?" she asked.

The woman was ghostly white, and instantly Draco knew something was gravely wrong. She looked at the pair of them over her glasses, wringing her hands for a moment, as though lost for words, and then spoke.

"I don't quite know what to say. But I suppose there's no other way but to be blunt," Professor McGonagall said, her voice noticeably less assertive than Draco had ever heard it. "Professor Dumbledore…"

She paused.

"Professor Dumbledore is dead."

A small jolt of something hit Draco, though he wasn't sure if it was sadness or sympathy or guilt – after all, the man had given him a second chance and had offered him a shelter over the past year – but he didn't feel any great wave of any emotion at all. He stood there, stoic, taking in what he had just heard, and nodded briskly as the professor in front of him continued to wring her hands, her bottom lip wobbling ever so slightly, but her eyes determinedly fixed on a point in the distance as she tried to hold herself together. But from just behind him, Draco heard a small gasp.

He turned around and Hermione's hand was over her mouth, her eyes beginning to fill up with tears of shock, while her other hand was gripping on to the arm of the sofa for support. Forgetting who he was in the presence of for a minute, Draco swept to her side and helped her to sit down, letting her rest her head on his shoulder and placing a soothing hand on her hair, stroking it gently. He looked up to see Professor McGonagall observing them with a hint of a smile on her face and an eyebrow ever so slightly raised, though her eyes were now glassy and red around the edges.

* * *

><p>"…Owls have been sent, of course, to everyone of importance. Oh, and to the Daily Prophet. We'd rather they didn't get a chance to generalise and sensationalise but naturally the tabloids will find out eventually, we might as well get it out of the way. There's a statement being sent with the owl, though I should imagine they'll want interviews, but that can wait. The funeral has been arranged too, and you'll need to prepare a short speech between the two of you."<p>

Professor McGonagall was sat up very straight on her office chair while Hermione stood with Draco, feeling too awkward to sit down, in front of her desk. They hadn't spoken much, preferring to let the Professor talk at them because neither of them had a clue what to say. It had been eight hours, only eight hours, since the Professor had dropped the bombshell on them in their common room. She'd left them shortly after as Hermione had been rather upset with instructions to meet her in her office in a few hours' time.

Hermione had been surprised how much she could cry in just a few hours.

And it wasn't just for Dumbledore, a mentor, a public figure, a hero, a genius, almost a friend and certainly a great ally… it was for her too, and for what the consequences would be.

Hermione could feel the climax building up around them. After this it would merely be one terrible event after another, the little hope they were still clinging on to would slowly disappear in the wake of the loss of a figure head and probably the most powerful wizard on their side, perhaps Voldemort's only magical equal, and then they would hit the terrible apex and Merlin, she didn't want to think what that would be. So, selfishly, she had cried out of fear and cried out of guilty for naively focussing on romance when there were far bigger things at stake, and cried because now it was starting to feel like everything would be over before it had begun.

And then she'd pulled herself together and tried to look at the situation logically.

To be perfectly honest, she didn't know why she'd been so shocked. She'd known for months that Dumbledore hadn't been looking his best, hadn't been seen nearly as much… the hand that he had so often left limply hanging at his side had, in fact, been cursed, and the curse had spread throughout his body until he had finally succumbed in the night. Hermione couldn't help but think that it was a pitiful death, ill-befitting such a dynamic man as Dumbledore.

Announcements were made, measures were taken, people were contacted and papers and letters were signed and sent, and amidst all the bureaucracy, Hermione barely had time to think as she and Draco and McGonagall and the staff all gathered round to put feeble bandages on the gaping wounds left by his death and to take all the temporary measures they could when it became apparent that this would be one of many milestones in the near future which would mark the end of this terrible war.

But none of them spoke about it. They'd just kept filling in forms and sending off statements and announcements that they could have done in seconds with magic but that when done manually provided a welcome distraction, and though in quieter moments, toilet breaks or coffee breaks snatched between ink stained toiling over parchment, Draco had tried to offer her comfort, Hermione felt too guilty to take it. How could she allow herself to be self-centred at a time like this?

The Professor was still speaking, and Hermione was still silent.

"I'm afraid we must begin seriously to think about the safety measures that this… terrible incident… necessitates," she said, with an unusual tremor in her voice. "I have decided that it is best that we send the students home to their families within the next few weeks. We will take the necessary measures and inform the parents of the circumstances, and perhaps we will have to provide some care for any students who, for whatever reason, cannot return. But the school is no longer safe. Without him… without him You-Know-Who has no-one left to fear here. The students are being informed as we speak, and owls have been sent to the students who are home for the holidays advising them that it is best that they do not return."

"How many are left in the school Professor?" asked Hermione quietly, speaking for the first time during the whole of their meeting.

"I don't have an exact number with me at the moment, but as it stands I believe the number is around one hundred. Now, that's all for tonight. You may leave. Goodnight."

They returned to their dorm silently, but the whole walk there all Hermione could think about was how suddenly, everything had become vivid and real and terrifying, and the fear of the future began to consume her. When they got back to their dorm, one of the first things Hermione saw was the gingham blanket, and she could hardly believe that eight hours ago they'd been curled up beneath that thing, blissfully ignorant and selfishly wrapped up in their own lives. Then Draco tried to take her hand and lightly pull her to his bedroom. She tugged back and jumped away from him like him hand had burned her.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking confused. His featured suddenly relaxed, as though he'd worked it out. "Hermione, give me credit, I'm a bit more sensitive than that. I don't mean sex. Not tonight. It's been a long day, let's just go to bed."

"I don't mean that, what I mean is… oh, I've no idea how to say this," Hermione replied, desperately trying to find the words she meant. "Everything feels so… it's all… I can see the bridge, Draco."

Draco looked puzzled. "What bridge?"

"What I mean is, we've been so naïve and so stupid, thinking we could just focus on our feelings for a while without focussing on the outside world and the labels, because we were going to 'cross that bridge when we came to it,' that's what we said. And now, because of this and what it'll mean for the future, I… I can see the bridge, Draco. And now we have to cross it. And we have to figure everything out."

Draco looked equal parts sad, angry and irritated. They were all fighting for dominance on his face as he looked at her in the aftermath of her impassioned speech, until he simply rubbed his hands through his hair and sighed.

"Please, Granger. Please. Not today. A lot has happened. We have a speech to write for a funeral in a couple of days. Don't make this harder for yourself, or for us," he said wearily. "Let's just got to bed."

She knew she must look miserable but she felt so frustrated and guilty and sad, and though she really did want to feel the comfort of his arms around her and the warmth of him next to her, right now she just couldn't.

"Ok."

For a moment, Draco looked happy, but then she turned around and walked into her own room and closed the door behind her. She spent the night alone for the first time in a long time and woke up cold, her face damp from crying in her sleep.

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><p>The next day they barely spoke and tried to write their speeches, but it was difficult considering the combination of grief and tension from the night before that was distracting the pair of them. Draco's grief was of a different breed than Hermione's, who he assumed was sad mostly for the loss of such a great man; his grief was for a life he had never quite gotten, but had always been close to. He was grieving for the fear-free, definition-free, worry-free happy life he had so briefly stepped in to with Granger before last night she had suddenly withdrawn from it. He hated her for it, but the hate was hidden beneath his burning need for her affection to return.<p>

That night she returned to him and crawled into his bed. He had not long gotten in it himself, grudgingly spreading out across the cold, Hermione-less space, before he felt her warm body slip beneath the sheets next to him. He said nothing, and only reached out to pull her familiar frame close to his, where she slotted perfectly next to him, as always.

She didn't have to say anything for him to know why she was there. Fear had drawn her to him for comfort after her abandonment last night – not that he objected. He'd been thinking about it a lot today.

It was a fear that would finally become realised tomorrow at the funeral of their last and sole protector. The source of comfort was gone, and now here Draco was to fill the void for his Granger. Because, as Professor McGonagall had said, with Dumbledore gone the Dark Lord had nothing left to fear.

Now, it was no longer a question of if but rather _when_ the Dark Lord would try to infiltrate Hogwarts now that there was nothing and no-one in his way. It would be sooner rather than later, and upon thinking this, Draco realised guiltily that he was savouring the regular thumping of Hermione's heartbeat, which he could feel through her back. For a short while, their heartbeats were in perfect time.

How much longer would they beat for, his or hers? Days? Months? Maybe, if they somehow got lucky in the face of what was now inevitable, even years? When would the organ surrender, either naturally or at the wand of another?

Right in that second, Draco became strikingly aware of his own mortality… and more importantly Granger's. It was becoming increasingly more likely that either of them would be killed, especially if Hogwarts fell to the Death Eaters. They would slaughter the traitor Draco, once respected son of such a loyal follower, and Hermione… it didn't bear thinking about. They wouldn't kill her. Or not for a while. They'd torture her and humiliate her, and Draco shuddered to think what they might do… especially if his aunt took it upon herself to toy with Potter's Mudblood friend before the Dark Lord dispatched her. Images that Draco wished fervently he hadn't conjured up danced in front of his eyes, of his Hermione, broken, lifeless, empty, in pain…

Draco's blood turned to ice and he felt his heart constrict, as though the thought of hers no longer beating made his own want to give up.

Time, time for her, for them, was more precious now than ever. Pulling the now sleeping Hermione even closer, he tried to memorise every curl of her hair that sprawled across his pillow, every sloping curve of her body, every freckle on her creamy skin, every floral undertone to her scent. He thought about the way her brow crinkled when she was reading and how beautiful she looked even when she was crying and how annoying her nagging and brown-nosing was and how he hated her voice when she yelled…

He didn't want to forget one tiny detail… just in case. He tried to map her out in his mind, to make a blueprint of Hermione, as now he panicked that he one day might only have that left, but it wasn't good enough. It wasn't as captivating or enchanting or annoying or frustrating or as overwhelmingly fucking perfect. It wasn't her.

Was this what it was like? What Blaise had been talking about? Was he in love with her?

Was that what love was: to always yearn for more of her and still never have enough? Or was this the result of his tired panic, and feeling like every second with her now was like living on borrowed time? What they had would be forced to an end at some point, it was just statistics, especially after Granger had brought up 'crossing the bridge' last night… and yet he couldn't imagine for one second what a world where he didn't have Granger would be like. Every time he tried he conjured up nothing. It was black, empty, vast and unimaginable.

His world was nothing without her. In fact, he was nothing without her. She'd changed him, moulded him to be better and he needed her in a way he couldn't articulate.

That was the moment he realised that it was true.

He did love her.

It came to him in one blinding moment, and he knew then that even if she didn't feel the same he would still love her; even if she didn't choose him in the end he would love her; even if she stripped him of every ounce of his pride and dignity and happiness he would love her… and then came the inevitable thought, still embedded in his brain, a deep rooted weed that was the remnants of how he had been before… he wasn't supposed to.

He didn't care. That second he made the promise to himself that if he ever worked up the courage to tell her how he felt and she decided, miraculously, that she loved him back, he'd forget everything else. She was enough for him now, enough to convince him to leave behind everything else he owned and knew.

Because she was his everything now.


	42. Fallen

**A/N - What? Another upload without a horrific 3 month gap in between?! No, you haven't accidentally stepped into a parallel universe, I've just started trying to get my lazy arse in gear. **

**Contains possibly one of my favourite scenes I've ever written. 6/7 chapters left. The end is nigh. But it's a good thing!**

**Reviews make me happier than you could possibly know. Woe is me, we got none on the last chapter :( Pretty please?**

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><p>"He was a good man. There's nothing more to it. He was goodness itself, in its purest form. He forgave me and gave me a second chance when nobody else could or would. My father often told me that he was the worst thing that ever happened to this school, but instead of blindly listening to him like I did when I was younger, I can see now that that isn't true. In actuality, he was perhaps the best thing that ever happened to this school, or even to the wizarding world, in our lifetimes."<p>

Hermione listened to him give the over-practised, over-exaggerated but underwhelming speech as she sat on a slightly raised platform above a sea of faces that she wasn't seeing at the funeral of one of the greatest men she'd ever known. This wasn't right. This wasn't fair.

But it was real life. Paralysing fear had been creeping up over her since the second she'd found out about his passing. She had to figure things out with Draco. Soon. The end was coming and they had to sort things out because how could she worry about him and her on top of everything else? Or was it childish of her to even think about figuring out a relationship when she had so many more problems?

At that moment, Draco turned around to look at her, and she gave him a comforting smile but felt her stomach tighten as she did so, because she had a growing certainty that there was only one thing she could do.

Speech finished, he took a seat beside her and out of sight of anyone he gently rubbed her thigh with his thumb. Face stony, she ignored him and stood up to make her own speech.

Later, when it was over, she and Draco didn't know what to do with themselves, so they stayed out in the grounds. She wasn't even sad. She'd grieved enough, and now she felt lost and confused.

It was growing warmer at last but that brought Hermione little comfort. The pair of them were careful not to walk too close together, not to look too friendly, not to reveal any truth to anyone at all. Draco was leading her to the lake, closer to a shadow of them without stepping any closer to her physically.

When they were out of sight of people, Draco pulled her close, gripping her to his body and resting his head on top of hers. There was nothing romantic about their embrace, not really. It was more a gesture of comfort and reassurance. Hermione liked the feeling of his warm, hard body against hers. She liked the way she tessellated neatly against him, the contours of her shape fitting next to his like some kind of human jigsaw. For now, they didn't need to kiss, or caress, or even really touch. Just to be near each other was enough. For now. But she couldn't. She might like this, but god damn it, she couldn't afford to be selfish, it would be so wrong, so appalling, so inconsiderate. It felt like the lock had broken on a box full of paranoia she'd hidden somewhere and reasons to do the unthinkable, the horrific, the heart-breaking, were an endless torrent of icy-cold reality and she was drowning.

It would be inappropriate to think of herself. It would never work. It was teenage love, it would fizzle out, no matter how intense it felt now. And she had to be strong. She had to be independent. The war was coming to a head any day now- that much was evident. Dumbledore was gone; still no word from Harry or Ron; the Ministry meant nothing. It was no longer _if_ it would happen while she was at Hogwarts; it was _when. _

But Hermione had gotten far too dependent on him. Had she not crawled into his bed for comfort almost every night for weeks? Did she not have to sleep next to him because without his warm body by her she fell prey to the dark, twisted images in her mind? Blackness; green flashes of light; walls crumbling; Harry, Ron, Draco, her, dead on the floor; the red of blood; the sound of screaming. She needed him beside her in order to stop seeing them. But it worried her. She needed to stay distant. It was war, and the more people she cared about, the more she could get hurt. The more they could get hurt to hurt her.

She would have to succumb to the torture of her nightmares to be free of the manacles of their confusing relationship. To love him was to be vulnerable. And vulnerability was the opposite of what she needed. Even if it was what she wanted – no, craved. But cool logic was no comfort to the heart.

So she took a deep breath, pushing down the pain threatening to burst inside her and turned to him, stony faced and cold. She could do this. She was strong.

She pushed him away.

"We have to stop this."

The words hung frozen in time, almost visible in their starkness and bluntness, and indeed Draco took a step back, like he was trying to see them more clearly and check that she'd really said them.

"What do you mean 'stop it'? Stop what?" he asked, his voice betraying none of the fear that was wrapping its way around his spinal cord.

"Stop being silly. Being childish and selfish. Stop this undefined, 'uncomplicated' yet very messed up thing we're doing. Just stop everything. "

Hermione's face was fixed and emotionless, but her voice was shaky. Pain filled her tone and there were cracks in the formations of her speech but still she tried to act like nothing was wrong.

"Why do you want this?" he pleaded. "Don't you like it? Don't you…?"

She felt her heart rip apart a little bit. Oh no.

_Don't you like me?_

"Draco…"

He looked at his feet.

"It's… I just… I can't have this, Draco. I can't be in a situation where I don't have any control. Things are getting too hard for me to allow that. I can't be vulnerable. I can't be selfish. I can't be any of those things. I have to be strong and ready for what's coming, and I can't drag you into that."

"I'm already in it," he replied, bargaining with her now, looking deep into her eyes.

"But you don't have to be in deeper. Don't you see?" she almost shouted. "Dumbledore is dead. It'll be days, weeks at the most, before the Ministry goes and then Hogwarts, and then they'll come for us all, for me. And what if they found out about us? That'd make everything so much worse for you. And what if they hurt you to hurt me? How could I live with myself? This is for you, as well as it's for me."

"Oh, just stop, Hermione!" He really was shouting now. "Stop! Stop being such a fucking martyr! You're allowed to feel and have things and not sacrifice everything. You're human. You don't have to become some kind of stoic soldier with no emotions and no weakness, that's impossible."

He stepped towards her and took her by the shoulders, lightly shaking her, searching her eyes in desperation for some flicker of anything but fear and worry.

"If it wasn't me, they'd find something else. They'd find another way to hurt you. And I'm a target too, in case you'd forgotten that I fucking _ran away from the Dark Lord._ Even without having shagged a Muggleborn I'm public enemy number one."

She winced at how vulgar he was being in his irritation.

"They'd kill me on sight. Look, I've made up my mind. You're stuck with me now. I'll fight with you if you need me too, I'll protect you if I have to, I'll defend you until all the life is sucked out of me. It's easy now – there's not even a question anymore. My choice has been made for me. My side's been picked. I pick you, and the side you're on. You don't have to be this person, Hermione. You don't have to be a warrior to make it through this war. You just need to be strong. And you already are."

She felt swayed. He was right. She was being overdramatic, surely. And yet… god, it felt so wrong to keep sleeping with Draco, no definitions, no strings, carefree and happy, when that was the complete antithesis of everything else in her life.

"Even if that's all true, I still don't know if I can do this. It's the looming bridge that I was talking about, the 'cross-the-bridge-when-we-come-to-it' bridge of definition. It's what we'll do, what _us_ becomes when the time to fight comes and how we even begin to figure out what we are or what we're allowed to be after it all, and I'm not sure whether I can cope with that," Hermione said, shaking her head. "We're still complicated and confusing and I don't need confusion on top of everything else."

The dry lump building in the back of her throat almost prevented her from talking. God, she was really doing this. She was backing away slowly, staring at him, terrified of both her reaction and the fact she had just said what she had said.

"Please, Hermione, don't end this," Draco begged as she moved away. "Please!"

His eyes widened and his mouth was slightly agape. He rubbed his neck then reached up and ran his hand through his hair.

"I love you!"

The words were blurted and rushed and stumbled over and not the beautiful, delicate confession Hermione imagined her first lover to make. But that didn't matter at all. It was a definition in itself. He loved her.

Hermione was still now and he took advantage, springing like a beast attacking its prey and crossing the distance between them, lunging at her in a sudden transition from standing agape to being swept up in the delicious sensation of his soft tongue in her mouth. He grabbed a desperate fistful of her wayward hair and with the other hand crushed her soft chest to his hard form.

Torn between conflicting emotions of lust, shock and fear that someone would see them, Hermione tugged at Draco's robes.

"Not here, please, not here," she gasped in between his ferocious onslaught of kissing.

But now he was snaking his hand up her neck, over her cheekbone, her ear and into her hair, not-so-delicately pulling her head to one side as he peppered her neck with kisses and licks and sucks and the kind of soft bite that was making Hermione's head cloudy and her hand reach up to Draco's hair and neck without her brain's permission.

"But I want you," Draco purred into her ear, nibbling the lobe. "I want to make you forget how ridiculous you're being. I want you underneath me, at my mercy. I want to make you feel so good that you never think of leaving me again."

The cascade of stark and seductive whispers made Hermione shudder. It was only when a wandering hand sharply squeezed her buttocks and made her gasp that she regained any kind of sense. She grabbed Draco by either side of his face and pulled him away from the dip between her neck and collarbone that he was kissing, taking control. He looked furious and angry and on fire and beautiful. His eyes were dark with lust, his lips slightly swollen and his cheeks flushed. Hermione knew that hers were too.

"Common room," she said firmly. "I'll meet you there. Go ahead of me. Don't look back at me, don't dawdle. I'll follow you in a minute so no-one's suspicious."

His smirk seemed even snarkier than usual. This time was going to be different.

"Don't keep me waiting," he growled. "Five minutes, Granger. Or there'll be hell to pay."

With a final glare, he was off up the lawn and towards the castle doors, angrily stomping as though he had a vendetta against the grass beneath his shoes. Hermione could feel the electricity crackling in the air. The idea of an angry Draco, throwing her around the bed, flipping her over, bending her to his will, taking her as he saw fit while he whispered terrible, naughty things into her ear… good Lord. This was the kind of misbehaviour she wouldn't mind, the stranger perverted kind that was making her neck flush and her heart pound.

God, she should feel ashamed for being so selfish – there had just been a funeral for crying out loud, her world was about to come crashing down around her – but this was distraction of the most animalistic, rawest form, and what better distraction than that at the hands of someone who loved her? Merlin, she could barely comprehend it, had he actually said it?

There was no time for a swirling vortex of thoughts. She had a rendezvous.

She nervously set off at a half-run, half-walk across the grounds, up the castle steps, through the huge wooden doors and the Great Hall, but soon her reserved footfalls were a jog and then a run (who cared who was looking at her and what they might think?), as she approached the common room with a growing cocktail of apprehension and desire sending tingles down every nerve ending in her body.

Now she was stood before the lion and the snake, she took a moment to compose and mentally prepare herself for what was about to happen. It was thrilling and awful at once; she felt shame and need and anxiety and a sense of abandoning inhibitions that made her feel delectably alive. She straightened her robes, pushed her hair back out of her face, and then the password was out of her mouth and she was inside.

He was waiting, surveying her in a way that made her feel exactly the same as when she'd been awaiting being Sorted – terribly small and vulnerable yet excited. His lean but muscular frame was leant against the back of the couch as he looked at her with narrowed eyes.

She'd expected him to dive at her, as before, but he didn't. His moves were calculated and precise. Standing up straight and stepping slightly away from the couch, he slowly removed his cloak and robes, folding them neatly and placing them over the back of the couch as she could do nothing but watch him, motionless. Authoritativeness that was new to him radiated from his every pore, immobilising her, as she stared almost hungrily at him in his white shirt, sleeveless jumper, charcoal grey pants and black shoes. Torturously, laboriously, his shoes were kicked off, all the while without looking away from Hermione's eyes, and then his socks, and she could feel her cheeks beginning to redden as he pushed his shirt sleeved up above his forearms. Then he ambled towards her, hands in pockets, strolling as though he had all the time in the world, and Hermione's breathing was becoming quicker and harder.

He came so close to her that their noses were a hair's breadth from touching and his stare was so intense that Hermione couldn't bear to keep it. When she tried to look away, her head was sharply redirected so that their eyes were meeting once again.

Draco didn't look down as he unbuttoned each and every one of the fastenings of Hermione's robes, and they were pulled from her slowly, like Draco was a child unwrapping a delicate and coveted present.

"Shoes off."

His calm, commanding voice increased the rate of her heartbeat as she complied, kicking them off.

And then Draco was kneeling in front of her, still staring pointedly up at her with no expression, as his hands slid up her skirt to reach and pull down her tights, but not her knickers. She helped him, stepping out of them, and then he was fully stood up again, too close to her again, but this time his breathing was heavy. There was a moment's pause, and Hermione felt just as though she was about to watch a car crash – she knew what was coming and she couldn't avoid it at all. But it felt incredible.

They were upon each other, crashing together like atoms, pulled together by forces beyond their control. Hands were in hair, around necks, squeezing at shoulders and buttocks and pulling at the fabric barriers between them as their feet led their tangled oneness to his room, clothes shed along the way.

Hermione felt herself being manipulated, but not in a bad way. She was soft and he was hard, she delicate and he dominant and authoritative, and she was being bent gently to his will. To not have to be in control was a weight off her shoulders, freeing her, allowing her to grab Draco and pull him closer, bit his lip harder, grind herself into him with more desperation, tug his hair more sharply.

They were naked, and the feeling of his hot skin on hers was driving her crazy, when suddenly his lips were moved from hers and her legs were ripped apart, each held down by a strong, pale hand. Blooming roses of embarrassment grew upon her cheeks; she felt exposed. She was too naked and he was about to be staring right into the very core of her.

"Draco…" she muttered tentatively.

He kissed her, effectively shutting her up.

"Be quiet, let me do this," he said softly. "I want to taste you."

And with that she was silent, his dirty words reverberating through her, and then his head was between her legs and his eyes on hers.

She could barely hold his eye from how exposed and embarrassed she felt but she forced herself to, the intensity both uncomfortable and incredible and the feeling of what he was doing with his tongue indescribable, the shapes he was making and the light jabs inside of her making her wriggle as he forced her legs to stay parted and against the bed. Accompanied by occasional light nips, it was heaven. When his fingers slipped into her it was more.

He beckoned her release closer from within her, varying the pace and the crooks and wriggling movements of his finger. His tongue flicked over her most sensitive part and she squealed, gripping the bed sheets tight and reaching down to grab his hair. Kisses and bruising bites were gifted to her thighs, his fingers still buried inside of her, coaxing shuddering sighs, but then suddenly he was licking and sucking again and the whole world was melting away.

"You're so wet."

It was a murmur against her but it made her whole body quiver. She couldn't take it anymore.

She sat up, grabbed his head and pulled him over the top of her, relishing in the weight of his body on hers, kissing him with all the force she could muster.

"Hey," he growled against her lips. "I think you're forgetting who's in charge here."

He grabbed the back of her neck and cupped her bum, pulling her up from the bed cover and against him.

"Then show me."

The words incensed him, and then he was inside her, eliciting a half-gasp, half-moan, and she could feel his irritation from their kiss on the lawn in his thrusts, so perfectly hard as they hit her over and over again in spots she didn't know she had, and soon she was a mewling, gasping, writhing mess, clinging onto his shoulders and raking her nails down his back. He pushed one of her legs against her chest, finding new places that reduced her to nothing but heavy breathing, unable even to form the cries she wanted to make as pleasure consumed her, then later her legs were over his shoulder and then as she could feel herself edging towards the end they were wrapped around his waist as she clung onto him.

"Say it."

"Wh- what?" she gasped, her forehead on his shoulder.

"You didn't answer me. Say it. If you mean it, say it," he grunted, the effort it was requiring him to hold on evident.

He continued to take her relentlessly, kissing her knee and then her hair and then her arm.

"Tell me you feel it. You must feel it. No-one else has been inside of you or tasted you or made you come."

The words were doing things to her, vulgar and shameful as they were. How could she be delighting in being embarrassed?

"Nobody else knows just how you like to be touched or that you have a triangle of freckles on your left hip, or exactly how your eyebrows scrunch when you're angry," he murmured huskily, gripping her waist tighter as he pulled her into his thrusts so he was hitting her even deeper. "You feel it too, you have to. Say it or I'll stop."

He slowed threateningly.

"No please!" she gasped. "Please Draco, don't stop."

"Then say it!" he growled, grabbing the nape of her neck and pressing his forehead hard into hers.

The wall was falling now, the world was crashing down around her and the words came tumbling out in the chaos with it.

"I love you too. Oh god, Draco, I love you."

The words were out now, and upon hearing them she realised she meant them. It wasn't the moment or the situation. This was it.

"Fuck!"

Hermione knew she felt it when she heard Draco's strangled expletive of completion and the way he held her even closer when he came but didn't collapse onto her; he held up his weight and stayed connected with her for a minute or so afterwards before slipping out of her and flopping to the bed beside her, but with one hand in hers.

She knew it in the way that he scooped her up in his arms now she was collapsed, sated, exhausted, and curled around her and nuzzled his face in her neck. She knew it in the way that even their slow deep breaths were in time as their heartbeats returned to normal. She knew it in when he whispered as they walked the line between sleep in consciousness the same three words again, and she had no qualms in repeating them back.

They were just getting redressed again, following their breadcrumb trail of clothes back into the common room and exchanging shy smiles and half-laughs and giddy kisses, when the room filled with a shimmering silver light. The opalescent glow of the lynx did not fill Hermione with hope, but dread, as it leapt down through the fireplace and hovered in the room.

Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice filled the room, echoing ominously as it voiced the only four words that could negate the happiness that Draco's honest three had brought, before it evaporated into wisps of smoke, with which Hermione's hopeful, happy buzz fled, replaced with shame for what she had just done and who she had forgotten.

"The Ministry has fallen."


	43. Home

**A/N - Aloha! ****The biggest announcement - _weekly uploads are back. I will be uploading once a week until the fic is completed..._ but like I keep saying, there are only four/five chapters (depending on how I portion them up) left, with the possibility of an epilogue if that was wanted - could you let me know if you'd read an epilogue, like a 'one year later' type thing? And as always, while you're doing that I wouldn't say no to a review either xD**

**So be happy my lovelies, I think I shall be uploading on weekends like I used to back in the day - Fridays or Saturdays. Enjoy the chapter!**

**p.s. - WE HIT 500 REVIEWS! WHAT THE HELL? Thank you all, my darlings, you are the lights of my life. **

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><p>Suddenly, everything was in overdrive. After the total numbing emptiness following Dumbledore's death, Hogwarts was now buzzing with a terrifying electricity and for Hermione, it felt like a military base, like she was preparing for war… which, she had to remind herself several times a day, she actually was.<p>

Could it really only be a hundred students left at Hogwarts? Hermione felt like there were millions, endless legions of innocents who had to be accompanied home individually, youngest first, by herself or Professor McGonagall or the other Professors.

With the Floo network untrustworthy and the likelihood of an attack if they attempted to evacuate via the Hogwarts express, each and every student had to be taken home, directly into their houses, by either Side-Along Apparition or by unregistered Portkey. There was simply no other safe way. And it was exhausting. Draco couldn't Apparate with anyone ("I never learned… I sort of had bigger things on my mind last year than learning to disappear" he said when she asked) so he spent all day organising the evacuees or making Portkeys.

And they couldn't even do the evacuation all at once either. It was a painstakingly slow process, partially on purpose to avoid detection in case it resulted in an attack, and partially because Apparition is simply impossible when one does not know the intended destination, and as the destinations were so specific, many spells has to be cast to prepare a suitable image of the intended place of arrival that could be used as a reference for Apparition. In addition, the wards around the castle preventing Apparition had to be taken down, but only for long enough to allow the few seconds for the Disapparition and, precisely a minute later, as decided by Professor McGonagall, for a few seconds for the Apparation back, so as not to allow enough time for anybody to Apparate in who was not expected.

All in all, it was a meticulous operation that left Hermione's stomach churning all day and set her constantly on edge. What if someone got in during that few second window of vulnerability in the wards? What if she didn't arrive at the right place? What if she, or worse, another student, splinched themselves? All day long it was worries and exhaustion and a looming sense of horror to come.

Three nights in a row Hermione collapsed on the sofa in the common room with Draco, too drained from constant Apparition to even make it to her bed, and in three days they'd only evacuated the remaining students from the first three years. There were still days to come, and Hermione felt dead inside. The light was fading from her as it had faded from Hogwarts. The Great Hall was no longer a place of eating and socialising; now, it was the headquarters of the evacuation operation, and student were eating in their common rooms. A strict curfew of seven pm was in place and the grounds were off limits to everyone – even Hagrid had been made to come into the castle, and he and Fang had had a room made up for them. The life and the joy that had made Hogwarts feel like home for so long was gone, but the very worst part was that Hermione had not been able to talk to anybody with being kept constantly busy, not Neville or Luna or Ginny or barely even Draco, to talk about her fears and draw what little comfort she could from the bonds of friendship.

Tonight was no different than the other nights. Exhausted, rubbing their eyes, both Hermione and Draco stumbled wearily into their common room at around five pm. Both had been dismissed earlier than usual by a sympathetic and equally weary Professor McGongall, though they'd barely sent half of the fourth years home. Hermione practically dragged herself across the room and flopped onto the couch and she heard to soft thump and felt the weight of Draco doing the same beside her. They were tired, so tired.

Hermione was barely able to keep her eyes open. But after days of being too busy to communicate, she missed Draco. She was around him so often but barely got to speak to him. With the last of her strength, she heaved her leaden body up the couch and lay with her head on his chest and she felt his strong arms envelope her while she fell easily into an exhausted slumber.

* * *

><p>He was supposed to be collecting the next batch of fourth years to be sent home, but he couldn't help himself. What was five minutes? It meant nothing in the long run. The world would still be fucked up and everything would still be falling apart in five minutes.<p>

Draco knocked on the door of the seventh year dormitory, feeling stupid for being so formal. But it felt weird to just walk in. The door opened and the sight of Blaise's familiar face behind it made Draco feel the tiniest bit better but it wasn't much.

Blaise tried hard to pull off his usual smirk but it didn't quite have the authenticity he was going for.

"What are you, a house elf? Knocking? Pussy."

He held out the door and Draco walked past him and into the room that had been his for the first six years of his school life. His bed was missing now though. It made him feel a little sad. He strolled over to a cherry wood chest of drawers and perched himself on top of it.

"What are you doing in the slums with us mere mortals then, Head Boy?" Blaise asked, walking to his bed and leaning against one of the posts.

"I'm on pick up duty. Need to take the next batch up to the Great Hall so they can go home."

Blaise nodded.

"I've been down here a few times over the past couple of days, how come I've never seen you?" Draco asked.

Blaise shrugged and picked up a marble paperweight from his bedside table. "Ah, I've been hiding out in here mostly. There's no fucker else left out in the common room anyway."

He began gently tossing the heavy ball up into the air and catching it with one hand.

"If you drop that you'll damage the floorboards," Draco noted.

"I think a dent in a floorboard will be the least of people's worries soon," Blaise said in an unusually serious tone.

"You alright, mate?" asked Draco, expecting a sarcastic quip or an insult in reply. He was surprised by the answer.

"Not really. I'm worried."

Draco cocked his head slightly to the side. "About?"

"Daphne."

Of course. Draco stayed silent and waited for Blaise to continue. He carried on tossing the paperweight up and down and Draco followed it with his eyes.

"What if she gets hurt? Shit's speeding up now, Ferret. I'm not stupid. That old bag of bones was the last thing keeping this place safe, and now he's gone and died and fucked that up and we all have to go home… what if someone comes for her?"

"She's a Pureblood, Blaise, relax, she's fine."

"Dean wasn't." He suddenly caught the paperweight and gripped it tightly, standing a little straighter. "She's fucked herself over now. She's a blood traitor. There are people out there now who won't take that lightly."

Draco was slightly alarmed at Blaise's panic and fear. "Mate, she's a smart girl. She's not exactly going to go around telling people what she did. She'll keep it quiet, no-one will find out."

"Draco, the whole school knew. If the kids know, some of the parents must know. Information that incriminating has a way of making itself known. Secrets like that don't want to be kept secret. They'll find out and they'll come for her."

There was a distinctive shake in Blaise's voice now and Draco leant forward and looked Blaise dead in the eye.

"I can't really help you, Blaise. I wouldn't even know where to begin. But everyone's being evacuated out of here within the next few days, including her… If you want to talk to her, and it really seems like you do, then you have to do it soon," he said, offering up what little advice he felt like he could give. "But I have to go, I have a job to do."

He slid off the chest of drawers and Blaise put the paperweight back where it belonged, then perched himself on the edge of his bed with his hands clasped and his elbows resting on his knees. As he walked past him, Draco patted him lightly on the shoulder.

"If you need me, for whatever reason, come find me, yeah?"

Blaise nodded and then tried for a smile. "I'm not a twelve year old girl, Ferret. I'll be fine."

"Of course you will."

Draco smiled and then left the room, taking his list of names from his pocket and heading down the corridor to the fourth year boys dormitory. He rapped once on the door and then opened it to find eight nervous looking boys sat on their beds.

"Alright," he said, consulting his list, "I need Mulligan, Jones, Archer and Stevenson… Someone will be down in a while for the rest of you… No, no suitcases, don't you listen to McGonagall at all? It's an emergency evacuation you idiots, you don't need all your shit. One bag maximum, and small enough to carry, you're Apparating for Merlin's sake, you're not going on a cruise…"

* * *

><p>"What are we going to do?" she murmured, her voice thick with exhaustion.<p>

"Hm?" Draco muttered, sitting up slightly, shifting Hermione's weight on his chest slightly.

He looked down at her. She looked almost peaceful with her eyes closed, with the exception of the crinkle in her nose and forehead that seemed a permanent fixture nowadays. She still looked beautiful though. Her eyes fluttered briefly open.

"Once everyone else has been sent home, we will be too. We're still students, after all," she said quietly into his chest.

Draco had barely thought about it.

"I… I don't know. I have no idea."

He couldn't be sent home because he didn't have a home anymore. But the thought of being sent anywhere, away from Hermione, was too awful to think about.

"I can't go back to the Manor," he continued, "and mother's in a safe house. I expect I'll be sent to one too."

He stroked Hermione's hair absently.

"And you'll get to go home," he added, trying to sound happy and not like the thought of it was crushing him. "It's kind of a blessing really. It'll be nice for you to see your family."

"I don't have a home, Draco." Her voice was even quieter now, and shakier.

"What do you mean?"

"I never told you, did I?"

She sounded slightly more awake. She opened her eyes and she shifted so that she was looking up at him with her chin resting on his chest.

"I sent my parents away."

Her small voice and the way she could barely meet his eye punched a hole in his heart.

"What do you mean?" he asked gently, stroking her cheek.

"I knew they'd be in danger, so at the start of the summer… I wiped their memories. They packed all their things and moved away to Australia. They don't even know they have a daughter. I don't have a home to be sent to," she explained. Her doe eyes filled with tears and Draco wiped each and every one that escaped her eyes away with his thumbs.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he whispered.

"It never came up."

She turned away again, laying her cheek back down on his torso, and he heard her sniffing as she continued to cry. He carried on playing with her hair, hoping it was soothing her somehow, and allowed himself to feel like the world's biggest dick because he'd never cared to ask about her home life.

"If you don't have a home and I don't have a home, maybe the Order will put us in a safe house together," she mumbled into his jumper.

"Maybe," Draco said softly.

"I could ask McGonagall soon."

Her voice was getting softer as sleep began to find her.

"Okay."

There was a moment's silence.

"Please don't leave me, Draco," she murmured, her hand curling around the fabric of his jumper, and then she was asleep. But he carried on stroking her hair for a long time, too ashamed to allow himself to sleep.

* * *

><p>Barely eighteen hours later, almost all of the fifth years had been sent home. It wouldn't be long now until he and Hermione would be sent home, and despite her sleepy hope that they might somehow be sent somewhere safe together, Draco had his doubts. How would they explain it anyway?<p>

He was heading down to the Slytherin dorms again to fetch some more students when he spotted Blaise striding towards him from the other end of the corridor and it stopped him in his tracks. He looked like shit. Even from this distance Draco could see that his eyes were wide, manic and bloodshot with deep purple rings underneath them, and his movements were erratic.

"What's wrong?" Draco demanded.

"She's being so stupid, Draco! Why would she do this to me? How could she do it?" Blaise jabbered, his loud voice echoing sharply off the stone walls.

"Who? Daphne? What has she done?" Draco commanded as Blaise stopped a few feet short of him, but his distraught friend could only shake his head. He looked like he was fighting off a panic attack. "Blaise, tell me! What's happened?"

"She's going on the run with him, she's going to get herself killed!" Blaise shouted. "She's going on the run with that Mudblood!"

"What do you mean? Come on man, you have to calm down and tell me what's going on, I might be able to help."

"I just spoke to her. I went right up to her dorm, just barged in, and there she was, bent over her trunk and packing all her shit," Blaise began, taking deep, desperate gulps of air in between each sentence. "And I asked her what she was doing, and she just said 'I have to go Blaise, I can't leave him,' and I fucking knew it, I just knew she was going to go on the run with him. And I asked her if she was being serious and she said he's been in hiding for weeks but after the Ministry went tits up he had to go on the run and she just said that she had to be with him and carried on packing. I practically begged her to come on the run with me if she thought she was in danger, because my mum knows enough people that we might be alright, but she said that it was _him_, that dick who stole her from me, and she just couldn't leave him. And I started screaming at her and in the end a couple of guys had to come into her room and practically drag me out…" His eyes went even wider, impossibly wide, and he grabbed Draco's arm. "If she's going on the run with him, she's running around with a target on her back. He's going to get her killed. No-one can get away from the Dark Lord now, no-one. She's going to get herself killed."

"Look, alright, calm down," Draco started but his frantic friend cut him off.

"How am I supposed to calm down? I don't know what I can do but I have to do something, what do I do?"

Draco sighed. He didn't know either.

"I know you won't want to hear this but you can't do anything. It's just the truth. She's clearly made her decision. You just have to let her go-"

"Let her go?!" Blaise was screaming now, and threw Draco's hands off his shoulders. "If it was Granger, perfect Gryffindor Granger, would you just let her go?"

"That's not fair."

"It's perfectly fair! It's exactly the same!" Blaise shouted. "I can't let her go off and get herself killed, I love her, and I don't care if she doesn't love me. I just have to keep her safe. You'd do the same if it were that Mudblood."

"Don't call her that!" Draco yelled back, balling his hands into fists, fury flaring up inside of him.

"Why not, you used to!"

Suddenly, Draco's wand was out and it was pointing in Blaise's face. "Not anymore. You're on thin ice, mate, so shut the fuck up."

"Look at what you're doing," Blaise replied, gesturing at Draco's wand and slightly calmer now. "This is what you'd do just because I'd call her that name. Now think what you'd do if she was in real mortal danger."

Draco knew that Blaise was right but at the same time he didn't want his friend to put himself in danger.

"You'd do it because you love her."

Before Draco even had chance to respond he was cut off by a voice, magically magnified so that it he was sure that it could be heard all over Hogwarts.

"_All students, return to your dormitories immediately. Do not dawdle. You must return to your dormitories. A curfew is now in effect. All staff and Prefects must meet in the Great Hall_."

It was Professor McGonagall, and suddenly Draco felt like he'd just accidentally walked through a ghost. His whole body was ice cold and he looked up at a now silent Blaise and lowered his wand.

Blaise, perhaps shocked and scared back into his default setting, made a poor attempt at humour. "Curfew's getting earlier and earlier lately…how's a man supposed to get anything done?"

"Blaise, this is serious. Something really bad is happening."

Blaise's smile slipped from his face. "I know."

Draco looked solemnly at his friend.

"What are you going to do?"

"I have to go after her," Blaise said quietly. "I don't know how she's going to get away from here, but I know her, she'll find a way. But if she's going on the run, I have to be there to protect her."

"You don't. There's a fight coming, we all know that. It's going to be big. You could stay here and do some good and fight with us. It's a damn sight more productive than following Daphne around. I need my best friend to watch my back," he said with a small smile.

"I can't," Blaise said, sounding pained. "I have to follow her."

"If you fought with us, who knows, we might be able to help get this war over with. We might win. Then Dean and Daphne would be safe because they wouldn't have anyone to run from."

"'We?' 'Us?'" The corners of Blaise's mouth quirked up. "You made a choice then? Finally committed to a side?"

"I had to."

"For her."

It wasn't a question.

"For her," Draco confirmed.

"So I'm assuming when this big fight happens, you'll be fighting instead of hiding somewhere?"

"Wherever she is, I have to be too. If she's fighting then I'm fighting with her," Draco said simply.

"See?" Blaise said sincerely. "That's why I have to go. You have to understand that."

Draco knew he wasn't going to win this fight. There would be no convincing Blaise to stay safe. Even if she didn't want him to, he'd follow Daphne to the ends of the earth to keep her safe. Draco could relate. But now, he didn't really know what to say. This whole conversation was starting to become awash with notes of a goodbye.

"Love's a bitch," is what he settled for.

"Yep. Finally came to terms with it then?"

"With what?"

"The fact that you're clearly hopelessly in love with Granger?"

"Oh, that? Yeah," Draco admitted. To confirm it out loud made him feel lighter.

Blaise nodded and clapped a hand on Draco's back. "You aren't made of stone after all. I almost feel proud. Who knew? The Ferret has feelings!" he laughed and Draco smiled.

There was a moment of silence and the air around them was charged with sadness that neither of them would admit to.

"You have to go to your dorm. Something bad has happened… and I have to go to the Great Hall," Draco said finally.

"Yeah, I better run or Daphne might find a way out and give me the slip."

They both stood, nodding at each other but neither actually leaving just yet. Suddenly Blaise said "Ah, fuck it," and the next thing Draco knew he was being pulled into a bear hug by his best friend. They both thumped each other on the back and then broke the embrace and took a step backwards away from each other, as though to put a safe distance between them and the rather tender display of friendship.

The magical voice of the head teacher bounced around the corridor again. "_All prefects to the Great Hall, immediately."_

"It seems I'm missed, I really have to go," Draco said.

"I know."

Draco stuck his hand out in front of him and Blaise grasped it firmly and shook.

"Stay safe, you twat. I know what you're like. And have fun slumming it. It won't be feather pillows and three course meals if you're on the run from a murderous mob," Draco joked.

"Don't get all sentimental on me, wanker. Love has turned you soft."

There was a soft pitter-patter, the sound of skittering footsteps, and suddenly a panting Hermione came running around the corner. When she saw Draco she stopped and let out an obvious sigh of relief.

"Thank goodness, I thought… Why aren't you in the Great Hall! You frightened me to death!" she cried, her relief turning to irritation in a flash. "Something bad has happened, come on! McGonagall needs us, we have to go now!"

Draco looked from Hermione to his best friend and they nodded at each other in solemn agreement.

"Goodbye mate," Draco said.

Blaise smiled tightly and then turned to Hermione.

"Just so you know, I know about you two."

Hermione's face paled.

"I would say don't hurt him but if you did, he'd probably deserve it, god knows he's an arsehole. But try and be nice to him, alright? You've changed him… he's gone all Gryffindor on me, it's just horrific. But, erm… you really matter to him." Blaise said sincerely. "And you know, he could have done worse. You aren't too bad for a Mud… pardon me, where are my manners? For a Muggleborn. It's just a shame for you that you were always so prissy, who knows, maybe we could have had something. Ah well, your loss!" he said, laughing a little too hard and long for it to be real. "You missed out on this fine specimen and now you're stuck with him. But anyway… better be off. The pair of you, stay safe now," he added, pointing a jokingly accusatory finger between them as he passed off his statement as a joke. Then he turned around and walked off down to the common room.

"Good luck!" Draco called after his friend's retreating back, feeling like utter shit to watch his friend walk open armed and willingly into a very probablE and bloody death when he was caught.

"Don't need it, never had it!" called Blaise back to him, and then he was gone.

Draco was only allowed a moment to stare at the empty corridor where Blaise had just been before Hermione was shouting at him.

"Draco, please, we have to go to the Great Hall now!"

He snapped back to reality and pushed away his sadness, jogging over to Hermione. Once he was by her side, they both broke into a run as they made their way upstairs.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked as they ran. "What did he mean he knows about us?"

"He's sort of known for a while that something was going on between us. He's the only one though."

"Where was he going? You looked sad when he left," she asked in between heavy breaths from the running.

"Doing something stupid, I'll tell you all about it later," he promised.

They ran up the final staircase together and into the Entrance Hall. They slowed as theY passed through the double doors and into the Great Hall. The tables had been pushed against the walls and across the space the pair of them could see a large group of the teachers and prefects – clearly they were the last to arrive. Draco felt it all of a sudden; despite the air of tension and fear palpable in the air, there was also a ripple of excitement, and they could hear the buzz of chatter from the group across the room. As they made their way over, the dense knot of people began to part, with one or two of the students for some reason pointing or staring at Hermione. Within seconds, Draco realised why as the crowd backed away to reveal a horror that Draco could not possibly have anticipated at the centre. Hermione froze halfway over to the group and he too came to a stop as she let out a strange squeal and all he could think of to say was "Oh, shit."

"Harry?! Ron?!" came her breathless voice from next to him.


	44. Vow

**A/N - Longer chapter than usual this week and that's probably going to be a pattern for the last few. The natural divides just fall further and further away... anyway, like I said, weekly uploads will be back, so expect the next chapter either next Friday or Saturday :) Four chapters left for definite, still unsure about a 'One Year Later' type epilogue? Anyway, let me know. Thanks for reading, as always guys, and y'all know that reviews are met with delight and great appreciation. **

* * *

><p>The red head and the boy with perpetually messy hair span around, away from Professor McGonagall and friends who were clapping them on the back, Neville and Luna among them, and to face Hermione. Both of their eyes lit up and their faces split into grins of pure delight.<p>

"Hermione!" they said in unison.

They seemed unable to look at anything but her, agape and speechless and still staring at them. Suddenly they broke into a run towards her and soon Hermione was running at them too and the three of them smashed together into a desperate hug, clutching each other with all their strength, indescribably relieved to be reunited, and the tears began to well up behind Hermione's eyes. She could finally bring herself to speak but the words were not coherent; she was simply muttering "You're back, you're really back!" over and over.

At some point they had sunk to the floor and Hermione had one arm around each of their necks, her head resting on Harry's left and Ron's right shoulder and she was squeezing them with all her strength.

"Bloody hell, Hermione," Ron muttered. "You're crushing my ribs."

Hermione pulled back, beaming at the pair of them. "You're alive!" she said, and suddenly she started laughing even though it was not at all funny.

"Not for much longer if you don't let go, I can't breathe," rasped Harry, so she complied and shuffled back, still smiling, still with tears in her eyes.

"I've missed you both so much," she said, her voice quavering.

"We missed you too," replied Harry.

"Yeah," Ron added, looking at the floor. "I missed you a lot too."

He looked up at her and gave her a small private smile, and it was the look of adoration in his eyes that brought Hermione crashing out of her euphoria like a meteorite, the air being jolted out of her lungs when she impacted with the earth. She looked away from Ron's gaze, and then she heard a snide voice from behind them.

"Are we quite finished?"

Harry looked up and his smile vanished; his dark eyebrows knitted together and he was on his feet. He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his wand and yelled "_Expelliarmus!" _

There was a tinkling of wood hitting the stone floor of the hall far away and Hermione looked around.

"What the hell, Potter?"

Of course… she'd forgotten about Draco.

"What are you doing here?" asked Harry, his voiced laced with venom and his face still screwed up in anger.

"I see you're still as clever as always," Draco drawled. "I go to school here. Hence, you know, the uniform and everything."

He smirked and Harry looked incensed. He turned back to the crowd of Prefects and Professors that up until now Hermione had quite forgotten about.

"What about everything he did last year? Did you all forget?!"

He was so enraged that nobody looked like they wanted to answer him. Hermione stood up and took a step closer to him.

"He defected, Harry," she said softly. "He's not on their side anymore."

"He let Death Eaters into the school!"

"You don't know why he did that. He didn't have a choice, You-Know-Who would have killed him. His mum switched sides too, didn't Dumbledore tell you? I know he was giving you advice about… you know. _Them," _she whispered conspiratorially, meaning Horcruxes.

"Funnily enough, Malfoy never came up. You know, because we kind of busy trying to figure out how to kill Voldemort," snapped Harry sarcastically, wand still raised.

"If Dumbledore thought we could trust him, we can trust him," Hermione countered. "You know he's never been wrong. Remember Snape?"

Harry still looked surly but he put his wand down. Then he looked at Hermione suspiciously.

"Since when are you so quick to defend Malfoy?"

Draco spoke before she could. "Head Boy, Potter," he said as he pointed to the shiny silver badge on the front of his school jumper. "We've had to share a dorm so she had to get used to me."

His tone was much more like the Draco from the start of the year, lordly and snide, but his eyes didn't have the cold edge that they used to. He looked at Hermione and gave her the tiniest inkling of a smile.

"Well, now that we've stopped behaving like infants, are we quite ready to find out why we have been gathered here?" said Professor McGonagall crisply from behind them.

Everyone turned to face her as she began to ascend the steps onto the raised platform that still held the staff table.

"Wait," asked Hermione. "It isn't just that Harry and Ron are back?"

"I wish it were something so simple," the professor replied solemnly.

She cast her gaze around the room and a chill crept over Hermione. Something terrible was about to be announced. As though through instinct, Draco walked over to Hermione and stood by her side.

"We have received word that You-Know-Who intends to launch an attack on the castle."

The room burst into outraged cries, questions, whispers and chatter. Hermione felt like she was about to vomit up her lungs and Draco looked horrified; Hermione did not know if she had ever seen him look more fearful. Professor McGonagall raised her hand and it fell silent once more.

"When?" came a voice from the crowd.

"Tonight."

The answer came from Harry, not McGonagall, as he too began to ascend onto the platform.

"That's why Ron and I are back. We Apparated into Hogsmeade as soon as we found out and thanks to Aberforth we managed to get in here safely without attracting too much attention."

For the first time, Hermione noticed the presence of a man who looked startlingly like Dumbledore and Hermione knew from her love of books that the man was his brother. In fact, she vaguely remembered seeing him in The Hog's Head once.

"The thing is, we know that there will be an attack tonight. But that's not the only reason we're here," added Ron.

"There's something hidden in the castle that we need to find," Harry said, looking meaningfully at Hermione.

A Horcrux? Here? In the castle? But she'd been here all this time, and she could have been looking, couldn't she? She felt useless and careless.

"What is it you're looking for?" asked someone in the crowd – Neville.

"We don't exactly know," Harry replied.

"Well where is it?" came another voice.

"We don't know that either," Ron said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking a bit sheepish.

"Harry, no offense, but that's not exactly helpful," called Neville.

"I know, but I promise you all it's important. We do know that it probably has something to do with Ravenclaw, maybe it even belonged to Rowena herself… and it'd be pretty famous and well known," Harry added. "It might have had an eagle on it or something… does anyone know of anything like that?"

"Well… there's her lost diadem," said Luna after a long silence. "The lost diadem of Ravenclaw."

"Yeah but the lost diadem is _lost_, Luna, that's sort of the point," said a Ravenclaw prefect that Hermione vaguely recognised.

"How lost is it?"

"Potter, it's been lost for centuries. In fact, it hasn't been seen since the time of Rowena herself," McGonagall answered.

Hermione saw Harry's face fall.

"Sorry, but what exactly _is_ a diadem?" asked Ron.

"Allow me!" came the squeaky voice of Professor Flitwick. "A diadem is a crown or tiara, but the diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw was thought to have magical properties. In fact, it was said that just by wearing it, the wearer would have their wisdom magically enhanced. Thus, it became highly coveted and sought after… that is, until it disappeared. Nobody in living memory has seen it. It is long since lost, and I assure you, could not possibly be within the vicinity."

Harry's face fell at these words but then suddenly he became unsteady on his feet; he fell, and Ron had to support him as he clutched at his scar and began to sweat intensely. The hall became awash with alarmed mutterings but Hermione was on her feet and running up to the platform and then she was by Harry's side, shaking him and yelling "Harry! Harry, what's happening?" until Ron said with an air of grim certainty, "Give him a minute, this has happened a few times today."

After a moment, Harry's eyes shot open and he looked horrified. His skin was still clammy and covered in beads of sweat and now he was at the centre of the whole of the staff and his two best friends.

"Professor, he's on his way, he's coming now," Harry said to Professor McGonagall.

"Oh my," was all she said before she straightened herself up and turned to face the sea of Prefects below her. "It appears that things are moving faster than we thought. You-Know… _Lord Voldemort,_" she said with steely determination to gasps from below, "is coming now. We have no time to waste!" she called above the cries of the crowd.

Hermione felt like she was about to collapse; was this really happening, right now, so suddenly? What was going on?

"Prefects will return to their dormitories and gather all of the remaining students. Advise them that any students who are of age and wish to do so may stay to fight with us and direct them here, to the Great Hall. The rest will be taken to Hogsmeade and will remain there under supervision until we can get them home safely."

"Nothing we can do will be able to keep You-Know-Who out indefinitely," said Professor Flitwick.

"We can hold him up," said Professor Sprout grimly. "I'll go to the greenhouses and see what I can rustle up."

"Thank you Pomona. Prefects, why are you still here? Go!" cried McGonagall, and suddenly the room was in motion.

Professor Flitwick was pointing his wand out of the windows and muttering charms to provide wards for the school, the Prefects were running back to their dormitories, Professor Slughorn looked flustered, turning back and forth on the spot, seemingly unable to decide what he was going to do until he stalked off towards the dungeons and Hermione hoped that he was going to create some potions which would help them and not just flee… and amidst all the pandemonium, she was still sat on the floor next to Harry.

"What just happened?" she asked desperately.

"I saw him, Voldemort, I've been having these visions all day, that's how I knew he would come. He knows that we know about the Horcruxes and that we've been destroying them. But luckily for me it also told me that there was one here… and the snake, Dumbledore was right, the snake's one too," Harry replied, sitting up and pulling himself to stand.

"How? How did You-Know-Who know?"

"Dumbledore was helping to keep the break in at Gringott's quiet but since he died… well obviously his influence on the Ministry is gone. They helped cover it up, but since Voldemort has had them in his pocket it's only been a matter of time before he found out."

"Harry, I'm so sorry, I've been so useless!" Hermione gabbled. "If I'd have known there was one here then I would have been looking for it and researching but I haven't and I feel so-"

"Hermione, it's fine, there's bigger stuff to be worrying about right now," Harry replied, but then his face turned angry and a second later Hermione knew why.

"Hermione, what do we do?" It was Draco and he looked petrified.

His eyes were wide and fearful and without realising what she was doing Hermione took his hand.

"It's going to be okay, we just have to make ourselves useful. You don't have to fight if you don't want to-"

"No, Hermione, I have to, for you, I have to," he babbled.

"_What the hell?" _Ron yelled.

Hermione turned to him and her heart sunk – he looked furious and hurt and it was her fault.

"I'm so sorry Ron, you were gone and it just sort of happened-"

"What exactly 'sort of happened'?!"

Ron had his wand out and it was pointed directly in Draco's face and his blind panic seemed to magnify even more now he had been confronted with a secondary and direct threat. Meanwhile Hermione was still desperately trying to explain as the situation flew rapidly out of hand.

"We did, I didn't mean it to-"

Hermione couldn't even get an explanation out because Ron kept interrupting her.

_"'We?'_"

"Ron, I'm sorry! Please, stop, look at him!"

Draco looked disturbing in his fear; he was staring off into the distance and shaking his head and there were tears glazing his eyes which were scrunched up in pain and fear. Turning her back from her angry friend, Hermione put her hands on either side of Draco's face.

"Draco, please, calm down. It's going to be alright, it'll be alright. I promise…"

Her words soothed him at least so he was back to reality but his breaths were still coming out too short and too fast. She stroked his face.

"Come back to me, I asked you not to leave me. Come back," she whispered.

After around thirty seconds he looked relatively normal but his eyes were still full of terror.

"I'm alright," he said weakly and then Hermione span back round to Ron.

"Look, do we really have time for this right now? We have a Horcrux to find and we don't know what it is or where it is and You-Know-Who will be here any minute," she shouted over the noise of the chaos in the room.

"Just explain to me, briefly then, what the fuck is going on," said Ron, breathing heavily and looking angrier than Hermione had ever seen him. Harry, meanwhile, was stood silently about a foot behind him, staring with narrow eyes at Hermione and Draco.

"I don't really know-" Hermione began from beside him, her voice trembling, but Draco finished for her.

"We've been seeing each other for a while," he said, his voice slightly more even now.

The panic attack had come suddenly and had almost passed now, but his heart was still racing. It was the shock of everything he supposed, all of his fears coming to reality accompanied by the creeping feeling of certainty that he, or at the very least, several of the people in this room, would die tonight. With that in mind, it seemed best not to spare the truth, not to hide any longer when in all likelihood he would not have much longer to hide.

"And I… well, I love her."

With these words, he reached out and took Hermione's hand and squeezed it. She looked up at him in surprise and then quickly looked at Weasley, whose face had gone from one of anger to one of complete and utter horror. He couldn't speak, and it was Potter who said the next words.

"You love her?"

Draco could not exactly blame him for his disbelief, but it still hurt him deep down. Would anybody ever believe him when he said those words except her?

"Yes, Potter. I love her."

"Did you by chance suffer a large head injury this year, either of you? Did you forget who you both were?" Potter said, anger evident, but clearly Hermione had had enough.

"Oh, get a grip! We're done talking about this. There is a battle coming and you two want to talk about my love life? Come on, what do we need to do. Harry, tell me, what's the plan?" she said, looking imploringly at her best friend.

Suddenly a horde of people were charging towards them; Draco recognised a few – their werewolf Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher from third year, half of the ex Gryffindor Quidditch team, five redheads who could only be Weasleys, two of them clearly parents, Fleur Dela-something, that French girl from the Triwizard Tournament in his fourth year, and others who Draco did not know at all.

"Harry!" shouted the werewolf, Lupin, if Draco's memory served him correctly. "What's happening? Professor McGonagall sent us a message."

Draco felt Hermione's hand slip out of his and he was disappointed. A few of the group of people noticed his proximity and began giving him a mixture of cold glances and glares of disgust. He sighed.

"Voldemort's coming here tonight. We're fighting," Potter said.

The Weaselette had suddenly appeared and the dumpy red headed woman, clearly her mother, was scolding her for wanting to fight underage, and there was some obvious sexual tension between her and Potter as they exchanged angry, smouldering glances – _pathetic,_ thought Draco – and then yet another redhead appeared, called Percy apparently, and some kind of family drama ensued between all the redheads.

Then Ron, the only Weasley that Draco actually knew, stalked past him, face red and fists balled, and Draco flinched as he walked by but Ron did nothing but shoot him an angry glare. As he passed he muttered to himself, and Draco thought he heard him say something about a bathroom. Really? He couldn't have held it in? There were preparing for war and he was going on a toilet break? Draco watched him walk out of the Hall but didn't say anything.

Draco passively observed everything happen around him with vaguely any idea what was going on, but he remained stood there because Hermione remained stood there. He would not leave her tonight. The only contact he had with Hermione for most of the time was when she used a Summoning Charm to reimburse him of the wand which Harry had reflexively robbed him of.

The room began to fill up, more older students who had chosen to stay appearing and more adults arriving who Draco had never met, all talking to one another and casting spells out of the window to put up wards or to cause statues to come to life or discussing battle stations and formations and 'could we maybe utilise broomsticks somehow? Drop potions from above?' and Draco felt entirely overwhelmed, yet he stayed because she did. When she talked to the others, he stayed silent and watched her. Once or twice, he saw Potter shoot him a furtive glance but he said nothing.

Out in the corridor he could see a steady trickle of students, some in pyjamas, – _Merlin, was it night already? –_ some in cloaks, some half-dressed, but all petrified as they were lead to the relative safety of Hogsmeade.

All of a sudden, the hubbub of the Hall was eclipsed by a voice, cold and high and cruel, that filled Draco with a primitive fear that felt as though he had always held it, but which had been repressed, awakened only by this voice and leaving him terrified in the rawest way.

"I know that you are preparing to fight."

The terrifying voice of the Dark Lord was now accompanied by a symphony of screams from everyone in the room.

"Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood."

Hermione was backing away from the group and towards Draco, and the minute she came close enough he wrapped her up in his arms, clinging to her because he needed the comfort of it as much as she did.

"Give me Harry Potter and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you shall be rewarded. You have until midnight."

Then the voice was gone and Draco pressed a kiss to the top of Hermione's head, trying to will his hands not to shake, and as the room slowly came to terms with what they had just heard he let go of her and pushed her away, giving her a reassuring nod. _It's ok_, he tried to say with his eyes. _I know you aren't ready for everyone here to know yet. Go. _

She seemed to understand.

More and more people began turning to Harry, but it seemed that as the only students here were those willing to fight, nobody wished to turn on him. Nobody here would betray him. Potter seemed overwhelmed by the lack of a lynch mob. Suddenly, Lupin raised his wand in the air.

"I will fight with Harry," he said, and the tip of his wand shot out a stream of golden sparks that fell softly to the ground.

The dumpy mother of the Weasley litter raised hers too. "I will fight with you, Harry, dear."

"I will fight with you, Harry," said Arthur Weasley and both his and his wife's wand shot out the same golden sparks.

All at once, Professors, the volunteering students, the adults who had come from Hogsmeade or wherever else they had been until they turned up here, with their wands in the air, and the room was filled with a tide of golden sparks as one by one, everyone swore their allegiance to Harry in a jumbled chorus of committed voices. They drifted around the room, a golden snowstorm, and settled on the floor for a few moments before they disappeared and it was as though they were stood on liquid gold. Hermione was raising her wand too, and Harry turned to look at her with such appreciation in his eyes that even Draco couldn't bring himself to mentally mock it. And then Potter met Draco's eyes.

Slowly, Draco took his wand out, and said loudly and clearly: "I'll fight with Potter."

When the sparks shot out and drifted down in front of his face, he saw Potter nod at him and at last felt like at least someone here apart from Hermione knew he wasn't a traitor.

Once the demonstration was over, a tall, black wizard stood on the platform and began commanding the crowd below him, sending groups to the three tallest towers – Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Astronomy – and into the grounds as well as sending the Weasley twins and a group of students to defend the passageways and entrances, and all the while Draco stayed still, going nowhere with nobody, and waited to see what Hermione would do so that he could keep her within his eyesight.

When the commanding wizard stepped down from the platform, Professor McGonagall came over and spoke to Potter.

"Potter, aren't you supposed to be looking for something?"

"What? Oh, oh yeah," he replied.

Draco almost rolled his eyes. It was nice to know that the figurehead for this whole side was so on point when it came to his battle plans.

"Maybe we should go to the Ravenclaw common room," Potter suggested. "There might be something in there, a picture maybe, of this diadem thing so we know what we're looking for."

"Harry, you heard Flitwick, nobody in living memory has…"

Hermione's voice trailed up and then she clapped her hand to her mouth and began practically shaking and Draco knew her so well by now that he knew that meant she'd just had an epiphany.

"Nobody in living memory!" she cried, in the manner of one having a 'eureka' moment.

"You've just said that, why are you saying it like it's a good thing?" asked Potter.

"If nobody in _living _memory has seen it then we just need to find someone who isn't living. Ask one of the ghosts, they might know!" Hermione suggested, her voice full of excitement at coming up with something so incredibly logical and Draco looked on proudly.

"Hermione, you're a genius!" Harry said, and he came close to her and embraced her, practically picking her up off the floor, and immediately Draco growled, eyeing the arch nemesis of his former years jealously.

Harry barely noticed, though he put Hermione back down and for that Draco was grateful.

"We'll split up – you go to the Ravenclaw common room. We'll still need to know what this thing looks like even if none of the ghosts can tell us anything useful. I'll go find one and then we'll meet back in here" Harry said now.

The pair of them began to move off.

"What about me?" Draco called after them.

Hermione stopped, looked back and retraced her steps. Harry followed her. He looked furious.

"What _about_ you, Malfoy?" he asked angrily.

"Harry, please," said Hermione.

The pair of them ignored her.

"What do I do? Where do I go?" Draco clarified.

Potter looked about ready to burst from anger.

"Harry!" Hermione implored.

Potter's gaze shifted from Draco to Hermione and he seemed to be considering something.

"Do you love him?" he blurted finally, frowning at her.

She looked incredibly caught off guard, so much so that she appeared to stumble slightly.

"Wh-What?" she stuttered, unable to meet the eye of her friend.

"Do you love him too?"

Now both the boys were looking at her, Potter in quiet, smouldering resentment and Draco in hope and desperation. Hermione looked from one to the other, like she was watching some fast passing Chasers throw the Quaffle back and forth between themselves, and then finally, with her eyes firmly settled on the region of Potter's stupid scar and not his eyes, she replied.

"I do."

Draco had expected Potter to explode but instead he shook his head and then he began to laugh, a real, deep, incredibly loud laugh though Draco couldn't see what was funny. Draco glanced at Hermione and was happy to see that she did not look the least bit amused, merely confused. Perhaps, Draco thought, Potter was so overwhelmed by everything, so traumatised and stressed, that he needed to laugh at something, anything, and this completely serious but odd situation was that something.

When he had finished, he shook his head again and muttered to himself, "This is what you miss when you're on the run for a year." Then he looked between the pair of them, the odd couple, beauty and the best, hard and soft, and just said "Fine."

Not knowing what to say, Draco stepped right in front on Hermione and placed a hand on her elbow, which he thought would be less incriminating to any observers in the room than her waist or her shoulder. Wait, did they care anymore? Draco couldn't keep track, everything was going too fast.

"Stay with me, Potter can send someone else up to Ravenclaw tower," he said quietly.

"I can't," she replied. "Stay here and make yourself useful or go and hide somewhere to keep safe… but I have to go, I have to help Harry. He needs me."

"What for?"

"I can't tell you, but you have to let me go," she said.

"Is this about that thing you mentioned when you were yelling at Ron? A Horcrux, or something?"

She nodded. "I can't explain now, there's no time. I have to go, but you need to stay safe. Hide in the hospital wing or something."

"No. If you're going to be out in the middle of this, I have to be too," he said determinedly, though fear held his heart in his icy grip and truly his instinct to flee was something he was now having to consciously repress.

At his words, she smiled. Didn't she think he would fight? She had changed him, softened the edges of him, made him do things he never thought he would… but maybe now was the only time she was seeing that.

"But I don't want to let you out of my sight… Please just stay with me. I… I can't lose you. I need to know you'll be safe," Draco said, trying to keep the sound of begging out of his voice even though that was exactly what he was doing.

"Here."

Draco jumped at the male voice so close to his ear. Potter. Why was he stood there? This was a private conversation.

"Eavesdropping were we?" he snarled, embarrassed at having been caught speaking so tenderly.

"No, just out of time. She has to go, she has to come with me now, there's no time to mess around Malfoy!" Potter insisted, indeed looking panicked. "So here."

Potter was holding out a piece of tatty parchment, brown with age, for Draco to take. Draco had no idea what use he could have for such a thing. Clearly Hermione did though.

"Harry!" she gasped softly, awe evident in her tender tone. Obviously then, this wasn't just a piece of old parchment. This was some kind of gesture.

"What is it?" Draco asked.

"It's a map," Potter replied.

He tapped the thing with his wand and said "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Ink lines began to blossom from his wand tip all the way across the paper, spreading out and disappearing under the folds and onto the bag, and when Draco looked at it, he was amazed.

"It's Hogwarts!" he remarked.

"Yeah. And see," he said, pointing to a spot near the bottom of the paper, "that's us. The dots are people. They're labelled and watch…"

Potter handed Draco the map and walked back about ten feet. Draco watched with astonishment at the dot labelled "Harry Potter" on the map did the same.

"It'll show you where she is so you can keep track of Hermione and us. It's one more person looking out for her anyway," Potter shrugged.

"Thank you, Potter," Draco said reluctantly.

He tried to put the map in his pocket but Potter stepped forwards again and grabbed hold of the end.

"You can have it on one condition," he said.

"Which is?"

"Hermione," Potter said, instead of directly answering Draco's question, "do you know how to make an Unbreakable Vow?"

"Harry, no! He's on our side, we can trust him!" Hermione said as Potter glared at him, but Draco spoke over her.

"No, it's fine, I'll do it," he said.

"Draco-"

"Hermione, just do it. I need this map if you're going to go with him," he said pleadingly.

She looked reluctant, but she walked over to them anyway. Potter stepped forward, holding out his right hand to Draco. Looking at it like it was a Howler about to explode any second, Draco took it reluctantly. Hermione placed her wand on top of them.

"Harry, you have to ask him questions which he will say he will agree to," Hermione explained.

"That's all?"

"Yes."

Hermione up at Draco with uncertainty. Potter licked his lips.

"Do you promise that you will fight on our side tonight?" Potter asked.

"I will."

A thin wire of flame slipped out of Hermione's wand and wrapped around their hands.

"Do you promise to show this map to no-one else tonight?"

"I do."

A second wire entwined around them, joining the first.

"Do you promise that you will, to the best of your ability, never hurt Hermione in any way?"

"Harry!" Hermione interjected. "That's not fair. What if he did it by accident? He'd die!"

"Fine… how do I take it back?" Harry asked.

"Draco has to stay quiet and you have to ask for another vow instead," she answered.

"Ok… do you promise that you will not harm anybody on our side intentionally tonight?"

"I do."

The third wire twisted around them and then they broke hands. The lines of flame disappeared and Hermione looked aghast at what had just happened, but Draco nodded reassuringly at her. He _needed_ that map.

Potter leaned forward and muttered to Draco so quietly that not even Hermione, who was now looking away with teary eyes, could hear.

"There. Now, if this is one of your sick little games, if you desert us, if you hurt her or anyone else I love, you'll pay for it," he said quietly. Then, he added, more loudly, "If you want to make it look like parchment again so no one can read it, tap it with your wand and say 'Mischief managed.' That way there's no danger of it falling into the wrong hands."

Hermione pushed Potter out of the way suddenly and brushed away a tear or two. He stalked off towards the entrance hall. Hermione seemed about to say something when Arthur Weasley came over to them.

"Where's Ron?" he asked.

Hermione looked around, noticing Ron's absence for the first time, clearly having been distracted by everything going on.

"He walked off a while ago, said something about a bathroom," Draco said.

The older Weasley looked at him suspiciously. "You're Lucius Malfoy's son, aren't you?"

"He's on our side, Mr Weasley," said Hermione.

"Of course he is," Weasley replied curtly before walking away.

"I'm never going to be able to step out of his shadow, am I?" Draco muttered forlornly.

"Don't talk like that. He didn't see you make the Unbreakable Vow. If he did he'd know you're loyal… loyal and stupid and reckless. If you break any of those you'll die, Draco!" she hissed. "You shouldn't have done it."

"I needed the map. Especially since you're-"

"Hermione, come on! We have to go, we've wasted enough time!" Potter was calling now from all the way across the Hall.

Draco looked at the floor.

"I will come back, I promise you," she said to him quietly. She glanced around and then took his hand briefly and squeezed before letting it go. "Please stay safe. And for heaven's sake don't break those vows. But I have to go. I love you."

"Don't say that, it makes it sound like a goodbye," Draco insisted, shaking his head.

"I do though," she said with a slight smile.

"I do too."

Then she took off at a run, and Draco watched her until she was out of sight, then stuffed the map into his pocket and ran out into the Entrance Hall himself to see if there was anything he could do.


	45. Dark

**A/N – Hello my lovelies. Not much to say this week other than thanks for the reviews we've been getting. There will also definitely be an epilogue coming out when this is finished too. If you could drop me a review, it'd make my day. **

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><p>"The tables, Malfoy, enchant the tables!"<p>

Draco turned his head to the source of the cry; tiny Professor Flitwick was stood on a window ledge with his wand pointing out and up at the deep midnight sky. In between muttering furious incantations and shooting jests of rainbow coloured light upwards he was now staring right at Draco. "

What?"

"Enchant the tables so that they become mobile; they can charge on our enemies. And the chairs too – everything, anything!" Flitwick was shouting, gesturing to a nearby classroom with his free hand, before returning to his spell work.

Draco obeyed, running into the room and raising his own wand before realising that his mind had gone completely blank. The same cold panic from earlier in the Great Hall was returning, twisting like barbed wire round his lungs and squeezing at them. He couldn't do it, he didn't know the spells, had he ever learned them? Had he ever learned anything? Right now he was struggling to remember how to breathe, let alone how to cast a complicated charm. His instinct to run was kicking in, and he felt his feet begin to inch him backwards and out of the room, and his breathing was fast and shallow, coming out in gasps.

The Dark Lord was coming, coming here, where he was supposed to be hiding and safe… oh god, he was going to die, painfully, horribly, in the most prolonged manner possible because he was a traitor… or no, even worse, she was going to die, the stupid girl he'd let himself fall in love with and who was now running around the castle, as vulnerable as a rabbit in an open field, just waiting to be hunted down, blindly following her best friend like only a naïve Gryffindor would… they couldn't find her, they couldn't hurt her, not her, not after he'd finally found her and opened up to her and confessed to her…

Her. Hermione.

The thought of her brought him back from the brink. The mist that had been enveloping his field of vision in his panic was clearing now he was focussing on her face in his mind… those crinkles in her nose, the creamy, unblemished skin, her smile…

The map. He reached into his back pocket and unfolded the tattered parchment. His eyes raked the sheet desperately as he searched the endless entirety of the map for her miniscule little dot… and there it was. He breathed, properly now.

Her dot was spiralling as it made its way up the long steps to the Ravenclaw tower. There weren't many other dots nearby. She was safe. He was safe… for now. He breathed.

He put the map away, steadied himself, and fumbled around in his brain for the right spells.

"Inanimatus Conjurus," he said, slowly moving his wand from one desk to another, one chair to another, even pointing it at tables and chests of drawers and cabinets, concentrating hard on visualising them as steeds or guardians.

One by one, they began to transform, testing their newly usable legs as they stepped around on the spot and only a minute later they were galloping out of the classroom.

"Well done, Malfoy!" Draco heard Professor Flitwick shout, but Draco did not stop to bask in the unusual praise.

He had set off at a run in the direction of the Ravenclaw tower. He had a plan, newly formed but stark in his mind; wherever she would be tonight, he would be nearby. He had to be.

On his way he remembered her words: "Make yourself useful." So he began running into every room on his way, enchanting the furniture and commanding it to man the boundaries, to protect. Now he had found the right spell it was not so hard.

Soon he was beginning to get creative, enchanting the weapons on the walls to release themselves of their steel braces and brackets, careful to direct them only to attack those who were attacking the people defending the school. He barely had time to check the map as he ran, casting spells and enchantments and bursting into rooms every few seconds, all the while dodging frantic students and teachers and villagers and those that were, presumably, members of the elusive Order of the Phoenix, who were all doing the same as he. Sometimes he had to dodge around a jet of light, or he ran into someone who was running in the opposite direction and who looked either determined or terrified, because no matter who Draco saw there was no in between.

As he rounded another corner, another obstacle between him and Hermione, he looked down, reaching in his pocket for the map but in the split second that his eyes were not ahead he crashed into yet another person; he looked up and his eyes were assaulted with shock of pink hair. Taking a step back, simply to take it all in, he heard his hindrance mutter 'ow' as she – so it was a girl then, Draco thought – stumbled back and then regained her balance.

"Wotcher," she said pleasantly as she looked up with a smile, which slipped visibly when she took in Draco's appearance. "

Sorry," he muttered, and then he stepped around the woman with the offensive hair and sprinted off again.

"Wait!" Despite his better judgement, Draco halted in the corridor about ten feet away and turned around.

"What?" he snapped, irritated.

There wasn't time for this.

"Do you know who I am?" said the pink haired woman.

"Should I?"

She smirked at his sarcastic response. But Draco knew that smirk all too well. Hadn't he himself perfected it in this last year? The snarky grin to hide how one truly felt… and he could suddenly see that she was an exception to the rule he had discovered; she was neither truly scared nor truly determined. She was both. Her eyes held fear and even in this short fraction of time he watched as her head had snapped over her shoulder not once, but twice, like she was anxiously waiting for someone to walk around the corner. She was jittery and fidgety beneath the confident and almost cocky exterior pervaded by her grin and loud hair; like Draco, she was looking for someone. So why had she stopped?

She responded at last.

"I'm your cousin," she revealed, and Draco felt confused.

"I've never seen you in my life," he replied, and he felt perfectly certain that if he had, he would have remembered that hair; in fact, no Malfoy on earth would even be caught dead in that hair.

"I'm Andromeda's daughter."

The sister his mother never spoke of, the one who had married the Muggle. He looked at her properly now, and he saw aspects of his mother in her – her pointed face for one, that he himself had inherited, and hints of her cheekbones too.

"Oh," he said, feeling embarrassed.

The prejudices he had been trying so hard to rid himself of were stirring.

"Yeah, I'm the half-blood spawn that you probably don't talk about much," she said, with a slight laugh, but again she looked behind her and her eyes were still full of vulnerability. "I'm Nymphadora. But don't call me that, no-one does. I'm Tonks… oh wait, I guess technically I'm not, I'm Lupin now… but I'm still Tonks really," she babbled, probably from all the adrenaline flooding her body, and Draco saw her twist at a simple golden band on the fourth finger of her left hand.

So she was married then, realised Draco, and she'd said Lupin… she'd married a werewolf? He tried hard to keep his expression neutral. Was that who she was looking for?

"You're Draco," she said now.

"Yeah," he confirmed, still feeling uncomfortable.

Did she judge him? Probably, he answered himself.

"What are you doing here?"

"Fighting," he replied simply.

She nodded and at last there seemed to be a genuine smile on her face, one that looked less forced and less like the eerie, gouged-out smile of a Hallowe'en pumpkin.

"You're doing the right thing, you know," she said warmly, and then before he could reply she was half running and half skipping backwards down the corridor. She raised a hand and pointed at him and that fake smile was back. "Family reunion at some point, yeah? You're on our side now after all."

She grinned, baring teeth, and then turned around and started sprinting away.

"Later!" she called, and then she was gone round the corner.

There was no time for Draco to process; he, like his cousin, had someone to go and find. He checked his watch and his stomach sunk. It was five minutes to midnight.

He grabbed the map yet again and looked at the lines of the Ravenclaw tower. Her dot was not there. Fuck. Where had she gone? He shouldn't have let himself get distracted. His eyes raked the map. Where was she? He had to find her, he couldn't have lost her… There! Her dot was right there in the Great Hall, and it was next to another dot, labelled Harry Potter. What was the fastest way there? he asked himself as he shoved the map back into his back pocket. A route appeared in his mind almost instantly – when it came to Hermione, there was nothing but mental clarity – and then he ran off the way he had come.

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><p>Flying down the main staircase, Hermione was praying silently that Harry would be waiting for her in the Great Hall. Her stomach was hurting from running but she couldn't stop… there were only a few minutes to midnight. She felt like Cinderella in the tales from her childhood, only this was much more sinister – she wasn't waiting until she would have to leave the Ball. She was waiting for a war.<p>

Skidding across the Entrance Hall, she was careful not to drop her precious cargo in her haste. If she did, her efforts so far would have been a waste.

She saw him in the distance, through the heavy wooden doors of the Great Hall and he was looking around all over for her.

"Harry!" she called as loud as she could over the din of spells and orders and panic, waving her free hand. "Harry!"

He finally noticed her and fought his way over through the chaos.

"Did you find a ghost? Did you talk to them?" she yelled to him as he came closer.

"I did, it's definitely the diadem, I talked to the Grey La- what the hell is that?" Harry replied.

Hermione looked down at the cause of Harry's confusion.

"It's Rowena Ravenclaw," she said.

"Why have you brought her head?" Harry asked, eyes popping in disbelief.

Again, Hermione looked at the white stone effigy under her arm. Its neck was jagged from where she had used a spell to separate it from the rest of the bust.

"I thought it would be better if you saw it, then we both know what we're looking for," she explained.

"And you couldn't have just described it to me?"

"No Harry, it's better this way, just- look, look, she's wearing the diadem," Hermione said, shifting the statue and holding it up so that Harry could see the carved white crown in the stone locks of Rowena Ravenclaw.

Harry took the statue off her and for that she was glad because it was ridiculously heavy. His eyes scoured every detail and she saw his brow furrow behind his glasses in concentration. Slowly, realisation appeared in his green orbs.

"I've seen this before…" he murmured, just loud enough for Hermione to hear.

"What?" she gasped. "How? It's lost-"

Suddenly Harry's eyes widened as comprehension dawned.

"I know where he is," he said, with startling certainty.

He set the head of one of the great Hogwarts founders down none too gently on the floor and Hermione gawped at him.

"Where?"

"It's in the Room of Requirement, I saw it last year, I just didn't know what it was," Harry explained. He took Hermione's hand. "Let's go."

"Harry, wait-"

"Harry!"

She was interrupted by Ron striding towards them, carrying several large, curved, dirty yellow objects in his arms. He sidestepped around the crowd and raced towards them.

"Ron! Where have you been?" Hermione yelled. "Draco said you said something about a bathroom, what did you mean a bathroom?"

Ron's eyes darkened at the mention of Draco's name and the relief and happiness Hermione felt at the return of her friend was tinged somewhat by the realisation that things would not be the same between her and Ron any longer, and that at some point she would have to sit him down and talk to him and explain to him and hope that they could go back to being best friends, but what she needed to do now was find the diadem and fight and hope that they could end this somehow.

"Where the hell have you been?" Harry shouted, looking equal parts relieved and angry. "

Chamber of Secrets," said Ron.

"What?" said Harry and Hermione.

"I was just thinking that even if we found that- that crown thing, well, we'd still need a way to destroy it. And the cup. So I was thinking about Gryffindor's sword and the Basilisk venom so… yeah," Ron explained.

It hit Hermione what Ron was holding. Basilisk fangs.

"Ron, that's genius! It's incredible!" she gushed, and he smiled shyly.

"You aren't a Parselmouth though, how did you get in?" Harry asked.

Ron made a weird strangled sound and Harry recoiled slightly.

"That's the noise you made when you opened the locket. It took me a few tries but I managed it," he said, ruffling his hair and looking at the ground.

"Brilliant!" Harry said.

"Harry knows where the last Horcrux is," Hermione said breathlessly, dizzy from the run of luck they were having.

"What?" said Ron disbelievingly.

"Room of Requirement," Harry confirmed. "I'll tell you on the way, come on, let's go."

And so the three friends, so freshly reunited, set off at a run.

* * *

><p>Ten past midnight. How could it have only been fifteen minutes when it felt like decades had stretched out since he'd bumped into his estranged cousin? And he'd barely covered any ground in between tripping and being forced to help and taking wrong turns amid all the mayhem.<p>

All around Draco's feet lay stone chunks of exploded gargoyles, dust and debris, random pieces of armour no longer making up the full enchanted suits that had been blown to pieces by a well-aimed spell.

The whole castle juddered suddenly and Draco nearly fell. That had been happening sporadically for the past ten minutes. As he ran, he looked out of the window: the golden shimmer of the magical barrier between Hogwarts and the Death Eaters was still there, but there were visible cracks along it, inching further along the surface even as Draco watched briefly. Flashes of green and gold and white and red were raining down like fireworks as they exploded against the barrier, veiled slightly by the shimmer of the wards, but too often one of those flashes would make it through one of the cracks and sail through a window, shattering the glass and causing damage like the kind Draco could now see all around him.

His legs felt like jelly; though adrenaline was surging through him, the exertion of running almost non-stop was taking its toll. Once more, he barely had time to check the map for reference; too often he was commandeered by a group to help send up reinforcing spells for the wards or to help move someone who had been injured by the deadly accurate curses worming their way through the ever decreasing magical protection around them.

At one point, Draco swore he saw a giant lumber past a set of windows as he ran down a seventh floor corridor; he ran past Longbottom and Professor Sprout wearing earmuffs and stood by crates of potted plants that could only be Mandrakes, the silver sheen of a Silencing Charm glistening in a halo around them, as they took up position by huge arched windows, the stained glass inside the frames long since shattered, making a rainbow path of splinters along which Draco ran as he tried to get to the Entrance Hall.

With the next ominous shake of the castle, Draco ducked inside a nearby classroom as dust rained down from the ceiling; he was still on the seventh floor but now on the opposite side to Ravenclaw tower, how was that possible? He checked the map but yet again Hermione's dot had moved. As he raked the map for it among the chaos of moving ink while he desperately tried to ignore that the shakes of the castle were growing ever more frequent, he found her and his heart soared – she was on the seventh floor too, she was nearby. All he could see was the tiny, beautiful little speck of ink that represented her.

She'd moved so much faster than him, how… probably Potter's shortcuts, he thought, seeing Potter and the Weasley's dots next to hers. She was only a couple of corridors away, a minute at a run at most…

And then her dot disappeared. So did Potter and Weasley's. Draco shook his head, trying to make sense of it. They hadn't moved, the ink had just disappeared, like it had been siphoned away… Where was she? Where had she gone? Where… where…?

There was no time to even think. He shoved the map away and threw the classroom door open then sprinted as fast as he could possibly go towards where she'd last been. A terrific boom reverberated through the castle, sending dust down in thick clouds and shaking the castle so much that it threw Draco forwards and off his feet. As he struggled back up, coughing as he breathed in the grime, he saw with horror out of the nearest window that flaming chunks of the magical barrier were floating through the air like embers before disintegrating… the wards were down. He had to go, now.

He was back up, flying around the final corner… to find nothing but a deserted corridor where Hermione's dot could last be found. Draco scanned the lengths of the corridor but saw no-one and nothing, not even suits of armour, through the gloom, nothing but a few remaining torches in brackets giving off hardly any light, only enough to see clearly what was a few feet in front of him, but why would he want to see a stupid tapestry of an idiot wizard trying to teach trolls to dance…?

Oh, but he knew that tapestry.

He at last saw the door as he squinted through the thick mist of dust. The Room of Hidden Things, the room he'd practically lived in last year. At least she was safe. His heart was in his mouth. Damn to hell whatever private mission she was on with Potter, the wards were gone now and he was going in after her. He could hear echoes of shouts and cries and chaos in the distance but he ignored them as he ran over to the door, still ajar, that was keeping Hermione from him.

"Where are you going?"

The dulcet tones, like the beating of a drum, shocked Draco so much that he halted entirely. He turned agape to see his ex-cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, only a few feet behind him. If they were here, that meant nothing good.

"Crabbe. Goyle," he said, trying to act calm as he nodded at them cordially. "Haven't seen you two in a while."

They were wearing school robes that were covered in dust and they were swaying slightly, as though disoriented. They'd probably been thrown off their feet like Draco when the wards had come down. Ever so carefully, Draco began reaching his hand towards his front right pocket, making to reach for his wand. How hadn't he noticed them on the map if they had been nearby? He'd been too focussed on finding Hermione and now he was stuck.

Crabbe took his wand out now and pointed it at Draco. Goyle followed suit.

"Dropped out after Christmas. Dad had better things for me to do," he said slowly.

"Yeah, better things," said Goyle.

God, the pair of them were dense.

"We've been training," Crabbe added, and Draco felt a chill creep over him.

"So why are you wearing uniform then?" Draco asked uneasily, still trying to get hold of his wand without drawing attention to it.

"One of the others had a good idea, said we should put our old robes on and sneak in. We're spies," said Crabbe proudly.

"Yeah, they all had a feeling there'd be a big fight here soon. Since Dumbledore died. They helped sneak us in about a week ago from Hogsmeade and we've been hiding in the dungeons. And you never knew," Goyle said, and he and Crabbe exchanged stupid smiles.

Draco had a hand on his wand now.

"A week ago?" he said in disbelief.

How hadn't anyone noticed? Death Eater spies hidden in Hogwarts and no-one had even known.

"Yeah. We had to be really quiet and we couldn't eat much because we couldn't keep sneaking up to the kitchen for food," Crabbe added, looking unhappy. "But we did it because we knew we were important. They all told us so."

"Well, that's quite clever for you two idiots," he said, his voice shaky.

"We're not idiots. We're gonna be rewarded," said Goyle darkly. "First we got you, the traitor, and then we're gonna get Potter and the ginger and the Mudblood. We saw them go in there and we're gonna get 'em. The Dark Lord's gonna reward us."

"You aren't going to get me or them," Draco said, filling with anger at what they had called Hermione.

He wrenched his wand out of his pocket and attempted to Stun them but something unexpected prevented him; Crabbe grunted "Expelliarmus" and for the second time today, Draco's wand flew backwards out of his hand; he whipped his head around to see where it landed and heard it tinkle as it rebounded against the stone of a windowsill and landed with a clatter by the bottom of a far off arched window. He turned back, defenceless, to face the two. They were grinning stupidly, clearly pleased with themselves.

"We know how to do Unforgiveables now," Goyle said menacingly.

"You always used to boss us about, like we were nothing." Crabbe took a step forward. "But look who's in charge now. You've had this coming for a while. Malfoy."

He raised his wand and Draco winced, preparing to be Crucioed or even worse, when there was a splitting, crunching sound followed by the loudest blast he'd ever heard in his life; mere milliseconds later he was soaring through the air, lifted high off the ground by a force unlike anything he'd ever felt and he could feel heat as he flew, and then his whole body connected sharply with something hard and pain consumed him as he crumpled to the floor.

Somehow, he was still awake, but he couldn't move or open his eyes or even make a sound to scream from the agony and aches filling him up. Drawing in breath was nearly impossible, it was coming in slowly and barely at all. He could taste dirt and stone. There was a shrill hum rattling around in his very bones that faded slowly into a high buzzing sound and suddenly he could hear bits of what was going on around him. He could hear some kind of echo and a crumbling and the sound of rock on rock but he had no idea why, and then he heard groans and words in voices he thought he knew but he could make no sense of them.

"What happened?"

"Wall exploded. I've cut my head."

"It's not that bad. Where's he gone?"

Silence.

"There."

"Is he dead?"

"I think so. Look at all the blood. He's not moving. Doesn't even look like he's breathing. And his eyes are closed."

"Are you sure?"

"The wall that exploded was right behind him. No way he's living after that. Now come on, we have stuff to do."

Footsteps. Echoing. A door creaking. Rocks falling with a clatter. The shrill ringing taking over.

Dark.


End file.
